The gift of a pause

Some people are seriously scared of not having anything to do, as if they feared that they could be doing something that has just not occurred to them, and therefore see this lack of project as a kind of "weakness", as if they were "leaving money on the table" and anyone (their parents, their spouses, their colleagues) was just looking for an opportunity to point it out and shame them for all the things that they could be doing but they are not. And while this way of thinking is quite common among certain Western societies, it fails to see one essential point: all the achievements, all the success, all the money we can earn is mostly aimed at increasing our freedom, at avoiding being forced into an unpleasant situation. Having food means that we do not have to put up with a grumbling stomach, because we are free to eat. Having a house means that we do not have to sleep under the rain; we can still do it, but we are not forced to. One could argue, in a rather cynical way, that, if you are rich enough or famous enough you might even be exempted from certain conventional rules. Many renowned artists have been known to despise social conventions to the point of actively breaking them: arriving outrageously late to an even, openly insulting the host on the quality of the food, "taking" mementos without permission and many other violations. But their fame and good regard in their millieu essentially "bought" them the freedom from those conventions.

On a more mundane level, it is clear that most of us are bound by the social rules, but that should not mean that our days become and endless concatenation of obligations. You do not have to be the President of the United States to "clear your agenda for the afternoon". It is just a matter of decision.

Photo: Andreas Christen

One of the unexpected lessons of the pandemic is that it has showed us that many of those indispensable compromises that clutter our calendars were simply unnecessary. It is true that the social price you pay is negligible when an even gets cancel, but not so when you decide not to attend: do it several times in a row and you will stop receiving invitations. But many people is now reporting that, as the shelter-in-place is relaxed and the social life is ramping up, they are declining invitations that they would have blindly accepted just two years ago. And that because, if all your hard work does not earn you the right to have a quiet evening at how, what good is it?

Yesterday I had a moment of illumination that I enjoyed very much. The whole weekend was predicted to be sunny, so we stocked on charcoal and steaks and, after the a long breakfast on the terrace and the mandatory hour on the phone with Karen's mother I fired up the grill and got ready to take care of the lunch. Trevor wanted to make sure that nobody thought of eating on the terrace (he hates even the most benign kind of bugs) so he "offered" to se the table. Lunch was smooth, with delicious food and pleasant conversation, and the kids vanished soon thereafter while I stayed behind with Karen, cleared the table and had coffee together. Shortly after we were done I announced that I was going to read on the terrace so Karen went to work on her laptop. But the moment I sat on the deck chair I realized that I could not "waste" the moment reading. It was just the perfect moment for a pause.

Looking around me I was that the sky was mostly clear with just a couple of lazy clouds. The trail that an airplane left behind was casting a funny shadow on a thin layer of clouds underneath. The swallows dashed in dizzying circles above the treetops while other birds exchanged colorful chirps. And the background rustle of the wind in the branches was occasionally interrupted by a couple of cyclists on a Sunday afternoon tour or a lady taking her dog for a walk.

This did not take much more than ten minutes. The trail dissipated in the air and got replaced by another one, the clouds shifted away and I finally opened my book. I could have read ten minutes longer, but I would have missed that blissful moment of delight. I had literally nothing better to do than contemplating, because these occasions are so rare that one cannot afford to miss them when they happen. I admit that I am privileged to have this freedom, but if life offers me the gift of a nice pause, I feel no shame in accepting it. Have a nice week.