Three Kinds of Laziness

 Oh this rings so true for me. Though thankfully (and gratefully) I am better now. Progress, not perfection :) One of my fave phrases is "we are human beings, not human Doings." :)  I come from a long line of "doers" My grandmother in her 80's would apologize for sitting down. I learned early on that "stillness equaled lazy" and so I filled my life with movement, literal and figurative. And several times I became so busy doing that I got physically sick, just like the monk in the story. My body told me to stop and slow down and just be. In that just being, a small bit of clarity came. In the years since, I have taken much more time to be still. And in being still important things are happening. If we look at nature, trees when dormant are still doing important things for their overall health and beauty. We we are still we are doing the same. :) We are refilling so we can give when needed. <3 Breathing helps me to center. Being in nature, being near water does too. I love watching waves either on the ocean or in a stream or a lake. Even a puddle can do. To just watch that water be. Ahhhhh. Breathe in. Breathe out! (PS It can be a challenge sometimes just being in DC where there is a huge push to be busy busy busy 24/7. I really feel so much compassion for those who cannot just be. Hugs from my heart to yours!

 This writing bothers me.

Indeed there is immense value in learning to be silent, in quieting the mind, and in learning to be alone with ourselves (and thus confront ourselves). Yes, of course. However, I do not agree that there is value in holding the selflessly occupied, worn out Australian monk out as a cautionary tale. He likely learned immensely from his dharma work. Much, much better to be busy doing for others than sitting alone in a cave. And I doubt that monk was able to become a monk at all without doing plenty of requisite silent meditation. 

The aunt who needed noise might have needed to find herself through getting comfortable with silence. Or, she might have just been lonely and seeking companionship. But sitting in judgment of her fear of silence seems heartless, unnecessary, and uninformed.

The whole story is not printed here, but I more appreciate the old, busy monk who finally collapsed and then fretted that he wasn’t doing anything than the writer who feels that it is lazier to be in the world doing things than sitting alone in a cave. In fact, why use the term “lazy” at all? What a loaded, unempathetic, guilt-inducing, judgmental pejorative. So is “workaholic.” 

The real laziness is holding oneself out as an example of “not lazy” by the example of sitting in a cave. Whether the writer wants to admit it or not, it is an escape that most people will never have the luxury of doing. The real, hard work is in being effective, active, selfless, and relational in a monumentally difficult world. Not the other way around. (And yes, to sit in silence, to understand ourselves, is of great value and an important step in preparing for the rigors of the world.)

We were not put on this planet to live in retreat from the world or to “just be.” Life is very demanding. Spending a lot of time alone in a cave does not impress me. A cheerful janitor who goes to work every day, whistling and singing a tune while cleaning up other people’s messes? That impresses me. (Even if he gets old and tired eventually.) So does a monk who occupies himself with the dharma until two or three a.m. every night. “Who is he now?” is an irrelevant question. Let’s take a look at what he accomplished, at the lives he touched, if we must ask that decidedly ego-based question. I hope the Australian monk can find peace in knowing he contributed value to a needy world.

I think the writer is wrong about what the nature of “escape” is but I’ll leave that objection for another day. I’ll just say that balance is important, yes. But if one is to err in one direction or the other (too much doing or too much being), I’d pick the do, not the be. I’d pick the giver, not the sitter.

This writing bothers me.

Indeed there is immense value in learning to be silent, in quieting the mind, and in learning to be alone with ourselves (and thus confront ourselves). Yes, of course. However, I do not agree that there is value in holding the selflessly occupied, worn out Australian monk out as a cautionary tale. He likely learned immensely from his dharma work. Much, much better to be busy doing for others than sitting alone in a cave. And I doubt that monk was able to become a monk at all without doing plenty of requisite silent meditation. 

The aunt who needed noise might have needed to find herself through getting comfortable with silence. Or, she might have just been lonely and seeking companionship. But sitting in judgment of her fear of silence seems heartless, unnecessary, and uninformed.

The whole story is not printed here, but I more appreciate the old, busy monk who finally collapsed and then fretted that he wasn’t doing anything than the writer who feels that it is lazier to be in the world doing things than sitting alone in a cave. In fact, why use the term “lazy” at all? What a loaded, unempathetic, guilt-inducing, judgmental pejorative. So is “workaholic.” 

The real laziness is holding oneself out as an example of “not lazy” by the example of sitting in a cave. Whether the writer wants to admit it or not, it is an escape that most people will never have the luxury of doing. The real, hard work is in being effective, active, selfless, and relational in a monumentally difficult world. Not the other way around. (And yes, to sit in silence, to understand ourselves, is of great value and an important step in preparing for the rigors of the world.)

We were not put on this planet to live in retreat from the world or to “just be.” Life is very demanding. Spending a lot of time alone in a cave does not impress me. A cheerful janitor who goes to work every day, whistling and singing a tune while cleaning up other people’s messes? That impresses me. (Even if he gets old and tired eventually.) So does a monk who occupies himself with the dharma until two or three a.m. every night. “Who is he now?” is an irrelevant question. Let’s take a look at what he accomplished, at the lives he touched, if we must ask that decidedly ego-based question. I hope the Australian monk can find peace in knowing he contributed value to a needy world.

I think the writer is wrong about what the nature of “escape” is but I’ll leave that objection for another day. I’ll just say that balance is important, yes. But if one is to err in one direction or the other (too much doing or too much being), I’d pick the do, not the be. I’d pick the giver, not the sitter.