Days of You and Me: Day 19, Bumbling

Coinciding with my current thinking on the art of doing nothing, I came across an article called “10 Ways to Enjoy Doing Nothing” by British author Tom Hodgkinson.  Hodgkinson, the author of the book How to Be Idle and a biannual magazine called The Idler, has made a real something, a successful writing career even, out of an expertise for doing nothing.   Hodgkinson says that his aspiration for great nothingness is inspired by his desire, a calling really, to “remind people of the forgotten, simple pleasures of doing nothing.”   Because doing nothing is doing something . . . settling us down, helping us be at peace, lowering blood pressure . . . nothingness is goodness.

And while it may seem oxymoronic, I’ve since been making a greater effort to just relax and try and do, well, nothing.  As part of my own personal commitment to being an idler, a bum, and a loafer, I’ve encouraged my family to join me . . . to find a moment here and there where we simply are simple.  So last night, I invited my husband and daughter to join me for a stroll, for what Hodgkinson calls “bumbling” or “wandering around without purpose.”

Our wanderings began at a water hole, a stream whose source is a large lake behind our house.  Annabelle, Matt and I found a spot on the bank.

We noticed fish, got bit up by the bugs, and I watched carpenter ants feast on a tree.

And in the true fashion of bumblers, we weren’t quite sure which way to go . . .

Annabelle found a feather and began drawing in the dirt . . .

And then Matt suggested we make our way across the stream and over to the lake; to be honest, I didn’t care where we went . . .  I simply wanted to slow down, breathe a bit, and see what I could see . . .

which was easy enough since Annabelle was riding on her daddy’s shoulders, not really needing her mamma right then and there . . .

after a bit, her daddy’s shoulders tired and Annabelle got the ache to run . . .

and this sort of made our bumbling richer because really, kids don’t have an agenda . . . they just want to wander, to walk, to pick up rocks, to not have to have anywhere to go . . .

her only objective was to run, all by herself, up our sledding hill . . .

then stand around a bit . . .

and spend the last of the evening gazing up into the sky.