I chose a grassy spot just off the paved trail that ties Venice beach and Santa Monica beach together. It was an ideal spot for me to focus in and do some writing...
When I’m adventuring, it’s easy to end up with no down days to write, read, or rest. My mind tends to say, “Go! Go! Go! Otherwise, you’ll miss out on getting the most out of this time.” But I believe the real truth is the exact opposite. When I force myself to sit back and be mindful about what I’m experiencing, the more rich my experiences become. Unfortunately, at times, I can let the “Go! Go! Go!” shout louder than what I know to be true. As strange as it may sound, I begin to miss out by doing too much. Consequently, looking back at my life, I become the most exasperated with juggling work, family time, friendships, have-to-dos, and want-to-dos when I don’t set time aside to be write, read, and rest. I might neglect it because I don’t feel like I have the time available or maybe it’s because I would rather do something active, but regardless, it can end up on the back burner. I don’t meditate. I don’t practice mindfulness. I just, Go! Go! Go!
I’m reminded of a conversation I had with a good friend not long ago. He had began obsessing about reading one book every month. Always making sure the next book was one that would teach him to be a better father, husband, business man, investor, you name it and he was reading how to be better than he was yesterday. Most any person would respect and revere him for doing so. But, after a year of this it became apparent to him that he hadn’t stored the information he had read. He was eating so much intellectual food that his body wasn’t able to digest it at his rate of consumption. That’s how I feel if I don’t mindfully stop and digest life. Think through what’s happening, how I’m responding, enjoying, engaging, and experiencing this thing called “life”.
...So, I chose this little tree in the grass to lean up against to be mindful and write about life of late. Half an hour had eased by and during my time of writing, I bet over 500 people had passed by me biking, skating, walking, running, dancing, and scooting. I hadn’t paid them any attention. But then a young family came to a stop on their bikes in the grass just a little ways away. The dad put his kick stand down and began to get their son out of the kid carrier. A boy near the age of three or four popped out and plopped down on the blanket his mom had just laid down. A moment later the little boy was running from tree to tree circling the little picnic as if he were being chased and the only safe spot was touching a tree. He was grinning from ear to ear giggling.
Shifting my focus from my writing to watching the little boy play, I watched as he ran from tree to tree with his imagination lighting up his face. I wonder who or what he imagined was chasing him? I wonder what kind of fortress his eyes were seeing when he would look at the trees? He was having the time of his life on a pretty plain patch of grass between four trees. After five minutes of this, his dad, still somewhat baby faced himself, jumped up and entered his child’s world. He landed hunched over with his feet wide and his arms out like he was trying to hug a sequoia tree. The monster had entered the scene. Growling and muttering the deep grumblings of a troll he began his pursuit. His boy wide eyed, laughed with glee and began running from tree to tree much faster now in order to escape the gangly armed troll. Around and around the picnic blanket the child ran always barely escaping the grasp of the troll. This way and that, they ran. The troll never broke character and even hurdled the bikes a time or two always landing in his hunched over arms out troll style. The troll was now making efforts to stay an arm length away from the boy but still keep the pursuit so as to never catch him. The laughter of the boy could be heard overtop the folk music playing through my earbuds. I turned my music off to hear the shouts of joy and laughter untainted by the music I had chosen for the afternoon writing session. After ten minutes the troll fell in a heap of exhaustion on the picnic blanket. As if the fall had caused the troll to immediately transform back into “Dad”, the boy came running in and jumped into his dads arms.
Silliness. It’s a medicine not just for those who are involved but also for spectators. Kids do the best to bring silliness out of people, even those who believe they have outgrown it. If you find yourself taking life too seriously, make a point to spend some time around a child. Be a troll, a princess, or whatever the scene calls for. Change your voice, become the character, enter into the child’s imagination. Forget who is watching and fully submerge into the silliness. It’s safe to say, silliness is better than any drug or doctor prescribed medicine.
So stop taking life so seriously, and find an excuse to be silly. There’s no age restriction, no income restriction, no maturity restriction, no responsibility restriction, none. The only restriction is the one we place on ourselves. So, unbuckle yourself, and get to it. Who knows, you might just inspire others to find the joy and laughter that silliness brings into our world.
Amen!
ReplyDeleteWelp - this is just heartwarmingly beautiful and truer than true.
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