My empty bowl keeps moving from our kitchen table to the counter and then back again to the table. I do not give much notice to it throughout the day. Sometimes it gets lost amongst math books, colored pencils, and cut-up pieces of paper. I am not sure who moves it, it might even be me, although I can't seem to remember, but often it is on the counter by the evening time. And every time I move it back to the table, I am reminded why I want it there.
Our kitchen table is the center of my daily activity. It is the place where I meet my children, feed them, and nurture them. It is the heart of our family. And while I find so much value in all the activity that fills the space of my kitchen, I need to have my bowl on my table to remind me that my sabbatical time is about paying attention to emptiness.
While I do not want to empty my kitchen of the activity that holds us together as a family, I do want to empty myself of a certain way of being present in my kitchen. I want to empty myself not of the cooking, cutting, and teaching, but rather of the way in which I listen (which by the way is not really listening because I am thinking of so many other things!). You might recognize what this type of listening looks like: glazy eyes, a few assuring nods, some positve affirmations to make it look like I am really listening, but I know I am not. I am pretty sure they know I am not too but they do not have a name for it.
It feels heartless, really, to listen this way. I want to empty myself of thinking about all the others things I need to do or the meals I want to prepare or the books I want to buy or the letters I want to write to friends or the blog post I want to write. I want to stop multi-tasking. It hurts my brain and my heart. Instead, I want to just sit and listen and be and let time pass for a few moments without thinking about what needs to happen next. I just want to practice idleness. I want to just be less busy in my brain. More thoughtful. I want to just be empty.
Poet Richard Brautigan insightfully wrote:
ReplyDelete1. Get enough food to eat, and eat it.
2. Find a place to sleep where it is quiet, sleep there.
3. Reduce the intellectual and emotional noise until you arrive at the silence of yourself, and listen to it.
4.
After spending four hours yesterday with a friend who has been battling breast cancer..for over four years...that has metastasized, I found myself filled with ALL of her wisdom regarding life (what is right? and relationships and their tie to our emotions. Her kernels of knowledge were passed on to me like seeds, including her take on a philosophy of emptiness. The mental exercise that constantly rolls around in her head seeking peace...the wish to not think about what is going to happen next. Her story is astounding to me and I feel that I have so little time left to hear much more. She inspired me to be empty without even using that language, those words....and I knew exactly what she meant. What a surprise to find your post from yesterday seeking the same. Kismet, perhaps? I believe Brautigan's number 4. is the emptiness you are referring to.
Just a quick note from your brother-in-law to say that most academic studies now support your reflections above on the problems with "multi-tasking." People who are trying to complete multiple tasks at one time almost always perform worse at those tasks then they do when they are focused on completing one at a time. So you're onto something!
ReplyDeleteI have been trying for many years to be at peace, live peace, be peace, know peace. Learning, thanks to your post Buttercup, that peace and emptiness occupy the same space. I really like the image of your friend passing her kernals of knowledge on to you like seeds. And that those are not so much spoken but are felt in a place deep within us that is very very holy. Almost like one of those mystical moments when we really understand our presence here on earth. One of those mystical moments when we touch peace, and as a result we touch the universal within. Ah, I am finding home.
ReplyDelete