Doing nothing

You may have heard of Thich Nhat Hanh, the Vietnamese Zen monk, prolific author and peace activist. Martin Luther King, Jr. once nominated him for the Nobel Peace Prize in recognition of his work to bring peace and social justice in Vietnam.

Like the Dalai Lama, Thich Nhat Hanh is a very busy, very active Buddhist.

I, on the other hand, am a sloth.

One of the things I looked forward to in retirement — actually the thing I looked forward to — was kicking back and doing a whole lot of nothing. I was pleased to read the writings of the taoist sages who talked about "wu wei," or non-doing. I really really like non-doing.

But Buddhism, perhaps more than taoism, is also about compassion. I do favors for friends, and in that regard I'm pretty generous. But beyond that, there's very little I do. I don't do any volunteer work. I give money to political candidates occasionally, but I don't canvass or make phone calls. I don't belong to any public service organizations.

It doesn't bother me much that I don't do these things, but it does bother me that I'm not bothered by it. I prefer just relaxing and escaping from drama and crisis when possible, which is now almost all the time.

Pop*modern is almost frenetically involved in the arts community, and I mean that as a compliment. So is Ms. Landscape Person, who tried to get me to accompany her to an art auction tomorrow — I declined.

Nurse K wants to go to Africa and work with orphans, and maybe rescue endangered gorillas.

I want breakfast, lunch, a nap and then dinner, plus some time in the back yard with the birds and squirrels.

(Incidentally, I am really shoveling out the bird seed these days. I started out filling the feeders twice a week; now it's almost every day.)

I don't know if I feel this way because I'm basically an introvert, or because I'm just selfish and superficial, or if I have special insight. Surely the Dalai Lama and Thich Nhat Hanh have better insight than me, and they're not stuffing themselves at Jimmy's Egg then crashing on the futon for the rest of the day.

I figure if I live another five years — that is, five years of just hanging out in coffee shops and my back yard — I'll be able to happily shuffle off this mortal coil in 2013. Frankly, I could probably do it now. I don't hate my life, and I'm certainly not entertaining thoughts of doing away with myself, but I'm not so caught up in the process of existing that I want to desperately cling to it, no matter what.

Well, here's another train of thought that ran out of steam before it reached the station.

Whatever.

More about wu-wei here.