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[from The Importance of Being Lazy, Al Gini- a section from the epilogue]
Wayne Muller, in his insightful and moving text Sabbath, argues that in the relentless busyness of modern life, we have lost the rhythm between work and rest. And because we do not rest enough, says Muller, we lose our way, and are often unsure of how to proceed. Although the Sabbath is a specific religious practice, the concept of Sabbath, says Muller, is also a larger metaphor, a starting point to invoke a conversation about the necessity to rest. Like solitude, Sabbath is a way of creating a time where we can examine who we are and what we know, and reflect on what we have. Sabbath-like solitude is about letting go, being fallow, and looking within. Sabbath, says Muller, does not require us to "leave home, change jobs, go on retreat, or leave the world of ordinary life." Nor do we have to change clothes or purchase any expensive equipment. But we do have to stop. Sabbath is about surrender, being open to other possibilities. Sabbath is a time when discipline should be studiously avoided. Sabbath is about stopping everything and taking time out before time runs out. Sabbath is refuge, a disconnect from the frenzy of work, consumption, and accomplishment.
Muller argues that rest is an essential enzyme of life, a catalyst, as necessary as air or water. "Without rest, we cannot sustain the energy needed to have life." Sadly, says Muller, in a world where overwork is considered a professional virtue, too many of us feel that we can be legitimately stopped only by physical illness or collapse. Illness then becomes our Sabbath. In other words, many of us give ourselves permission to back off only when a crisis occurs. Our pneumonia, our cancer, our heart attack, our accidents create rest for us. They give us permission to stop and reflect. Muller reminds us that "on the seventh day" even God found it necessary to rest.
Sabbath time is about "useless things" that only have value when we have the time to appreciate and do them.
Wayne Muller, in his insightful and moving text Sabbath, argues that in the relentless busyness of modern life, we have lost the rhythm between work and rest. And because we do not rest enough, says Muller, we lose our way, and are often unsure of how to proceed. Although the Sabbath is a specific religious practice, the concept of Sabbath, says Muller, is also a larger metaphor, a starting point to invoke a conversation about the necessity to rest. Like solitude, Sabbath is a way of creating a time where we can examine who we are and what we know, and reflect on what we have. Sabbath-like solitude is about letting go, being fallow, and looking within. Sabbath, says Muller, does not require us to "leave home, change jobs, go on retreat, or leave the world of ordinary life." Nor do we have to change clothes or purchase any expensive equipment. But we do have to stop. Sabbath is about surrender, being open to other possibilities. Sabbath is a time when discipline should be studiously avoided. Sabbath is about stopping everything and taking time out before time runs out. Sabbath is refuge, a disconnect from the frenzy of work, consumption, and accomplishment.
Muller argues that rest is an essential enzyme of life, a catalyst, as necessary as air or water. "Without rest, we cannot sustain the energy needed to have life." Sadly, says Muller, in a world where overwork is considered a professional virtue, too many of us feel that we can be legitimately stopped only by physical illness or collapse. Illness then becomes our Sabbath. In other words, many of us give ourselves permission to back off only when a crisis occurs. Our pneumonia, our cancer, our heart attack, our accidents create rest for us. They give us permission to stop and reflect. Muller reminds us that "on the seventh day" even God found it necessary to rest.
Sabbath time is about "useless things" that only have value when we have the time to appreciate and do them.
To walk without purpose, to no place in particular, where we are astonished by the textured bark of an oak. To notice the color red showing itself for the first time in the maple in fall. To see animals in the shapes of clouds, to walk in clover. To fall into an unexpected conversation with a stranger, and find something delicious and unbidden take shape. To taste the orange we eat, the juice on the chin, the pulp between teeth. To take a deep sigh, an exhale, followed by a listening silence. To allow a recollection of a moment with a loved one, a feeling of how our life has evolved. To give thanks for a single step upon the earth. To give thanks for any blessing, previously unnoticed...the gentle brush of a hand on a lover's body, the sweet surrender of sleep in the afternoon.
