Here I am, lying on my comfy couch, staring out the front windows at the trees, sunlight, crows swooping up and down amidst the dandelions. Chatham County doing what it does best, bursting with nature. Incredibly restful. I just sold my house and am exhausted from the long drawn-out process. Gimme a break. Restful feels very appealing. And all the while, in the back of my mind, I hear that little, teeny voice, whispering, “shouldn’t you be doing something useful?”
Like what? I’m relaxing and enjoying myself.
“Well, you know, doing something to help others.” The subtext threading lightly through my head: “do something instead of being indolent and just lying on the couch and staring outside.” Oh my, been there, heard that too many times!
That little whispering voice has been an uninvited lifelong companion. Uninvited, but clearly fomenting enough discomfort in my life that we — that little, whispering voice and I — need to have another conversation.
“Oh, geez, do we have to? Can’t I just continue staring out the window?”
“Well sure, but that little whispering voice is on an endless loop.”
“Point made.”
Deep breath. I can do this.
This being a conversation with that (occasional) endless loop in my head of “you’re not being useful.” And honestly, that conversation with myself about “not being useful” is no infrequent visitor. Sometimes, I think we reach a detente, a comfortable resting place, and then that little nagging voice breaks detente and here we are again. And I revert to a snappish “just leave me alone,” counter retort.
In the midst of this escalating internal argument, a healthy thought pops up. “Let’s go looking for a little wisdom!” Over the course of many years, I’ve tried to capture wisdom by copying and pasting snippets into my wisdom file. I never set up a table of contents since I didn’t realize I’d be plopping nuggets in this file for so many years.
How the heck do I find wisdom nuggets in the voluminous file? I don’t. Like many things in life, the wisdom nuggets find me. Based on my deep internal trust that they’ll wave their little hands and go “thar she blows” when I’m ready. No pushing or shoving, only my internal door ajar, welcoming possible light.
A nugget found me this time, as well. And I have absolutely no memory at all of plopping these words from William Wordsworth’s “Tintern Abbey” into my wisdom file. But they were there when needed (as often things are).
“That in this moment, there is life and food for future years.”
I forget, all too often, that in being present to others, I need to nurture myself, too. What a concept. The natural beauty right outside my windows is, indeed, “life and food for future years.” I’m stocking up on free nurturance for whatever the way forward brings. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my couch is calling.
Jan Hutton is a retired hospice/hospital social worker who believes in living life with heart and humor. She has happily lived in Chatham for 20 years.