Summer Do-Bees

 Last night, Jim and I went across the lake to visit family members who are also on vacation in Massachusetts. Although they planned to take some day trips to nearby attractions, they lay low, hung around the lake, and did nothing. Years ago, my friend Ellen gave me a quotation ensconced in a small frame that stated, "Doing nothing is a very important part of living." The gift's timing was odd; we were both in the thick of our teaching careers and as English teachers, we always had a Sisyphean load of essays to read. Having a space of time to fill with nothing was sheer fantasy. I thought about that last night when my niece and nephew were extolling the pleasures of staring into space for two glorious weeks.  

For sure, both doing and being define the head-tail-sidedness of life. External pressures and goals often dictate much of our time, but how do we slow down to tune in to the subtleties of who we are and explore our inner truths and callings? Shifting gears and spending quiet time in nature often does the trick for me. Trees have taught me the power of wordless conversations. Though rooted and stately, conversely, trees lead by example to attend to a superior force. Wordlessly, they speak volumes about how silence informs, inspires, and empowers new actions. I need all of those qualities as I anticipate an upcoming visit with my grandkids, who, not surprisingly, arrive not only with bathing suits and flippers, but also with their screens. Call me a hopeless optimist, but I hope for a more unplugged summer every year.

Perhaps it’s unfair, but I wax nostalgic and reflect on pre-device childhoods of the past; times that gave us kids seemingly endless opportunities for simply being. We'd go outside to play, tromp through woods, climb trees, and dig holes to China. Maybe I'm unfairly glorifying a time gone by, but unarguably, one modern bane of existence is contending with ever-present devices. Weekly, I dread the notification on my iPhone that announces how many hours I've spent on its almighty screen. I try to rationalize my way around the number: I read my newspaper there, research, play games, phone, and text. Sometimes, I think my grandkids are more device-savvy and screen-dependent than I am. I think about them being here at the cottage, and my mind races: we need more swimming, hikes, and trips to the library. 

Last year, we added a trampoline to the yard, which was a hit. This year, we've purchased various paints so the kids can decorate the shed with their original artwork. Young Claire is now reading as well as Mary, and she enjoys creating recipes. In the summer of 24, Mary came up with different varieties of ice pops; the other day, she mentioned she was working on fruit juice combinations as a food-related project for this year. Jim introduced them to tennis this winter and hopes to keep that momentum. As I look at this growing list of activities, I know I'm overplanning, but the struggle to balance technology use with creative activities and simple downtime is constant. I don't want their device use to crowd out our grandchildren's sense of inner wisdom or impede the discovery of their unique abilities and identities.

As I sit here writing this and looking out the window at my trees, I think I’ll let the kids use (or help them use) my photo printer and coach them into a summer photo essay project. Who knows, one of them might choose to focus on trees. Or doing nothing? Or maybe even silence?

…a do bee all day long!