I’ve been trying to do nothing. Not as easy as it sounds. Just do nothing and not worry about it. Not feel that you have to have achieved something. Not feel that you have to have crossed something off the constant “To Do” list. Just do nothing. Just do nothing and feel no guilt about it.
“What did you do today?”
“Nothing really”
I’ve become a little obsessed with a bench in the local park. You know how benches in parks have little memorial plaques? My local park’s got loads and every morning when I take the dogs for a walk, I look at this particular bench and wonder.
Sometimes it’s OK to just sit and think. And sometimes you don’t even have to do that.
So off on another travel and there’s this feeling that I should “do something”. If you don’t do something, it’s just… What? Just what? And if it is “Just what?” is there anything wrong with that?
I remember last year I felt a pressure. I wanted to go to Israel to find out The Truth – seemed a reasonable thing to do on a three week break – but would I take advantage of the time and the opportunity? Would I be brave enough? I remember the flight out being hammered by these ideas, yet they disappeared as soon as I got there. And, once there, I was definitely brave enough. Maybe on one occasion, a little too brave (going into the refugee camp with my Star of David earring wrapped up on a plaster… It was OK, but I know not everyone would have done that).
I’ve got the same thing this time. Will I have a good enough time? Will it be interesting enough? I could try to recreate last year’s trip with a “Trying to understand Trump’s America” theme. But you know, pah. The best part of three weeks, it feels such a ridiculous indulgence. But what’s wrong with indulgence? And what’s ridiculous about it? Who’s it hurting? What’s the downside?
I’m 61 now – yeah, I know – and who knows what could happen? The spectre of my old man never quite leaves. You work your life, you do the right thing, provide and create a life and then you retire expecting to maybe buy a Panama hat and go to the cricket or go on a cruise or do whatever it is you want to do and then…
My old man. He retired at 65 and at 66… There was a chest pain and, five days later, that was that. He bought a new car, something light metallic blue. I remember him buying it. And I remember it being delivered after he died. My mother couldn’t look at it. I think I gave it away, just get it gone. To be honest, I preferred the old one. Anyway. Take advantage while you can.
