Being addicted to work is a temptation. That addiction goes well beyond our job and our computers at home to include our commitment to incessant busyness in all of our lives. Even our play is not immune. It is as if we have no right to be if we are not constantly doing something, producing something, making something.
Yet most of us have the common sense to know such extremes produce skewed human beings. Despite our actions to the contrary, life is not work and work is not life. We know this to be true, and yet we need the reminder. At least I do.
Years ago my wife Kathy and I spent several weeks in Spain and Portugal. We stayed in paradors and posadas, which are inns for travelers that were formerly monasteries and historic buildings. We explored ancient towns by looking at architecture, shops, and art. We read on the beach, slept, ate, and talked. Our expectations were nothing in particular. We had no schedule. Yet our days became filled with simple pleasures, and the outcome was refreshment and renewal.
Each evening, we would walk to the town squares and sit outside at small restaurants next to the remnants of old churches. Kathy and I would reflect on the day, watching the sky go black. Then we would eat a wonderful meal while gazing at the colorful illuminations of the ancient buildings. It was nothing special, I guess, but for us, it seemed priceless.
Speak to anyone who fly-fishes, and he will describe the experience with near reverence. The movie A River Runs Through It helps those of us who do not fish to understand its lure. Standing in the middle of the stream casting and reeling and casting again, the rhythm allows them to lose themselves in the majesty of the world around them.
Distance runners talk of the same sensation. So do those who practice centering prayer and meditation. Some even speak of “catching the universe.” We all need those occasions of transcendence, of solitary immersion, to give life its context and meaning.
We have created our own mini-empires that demand time and attention – our large homes, our boats, our cars, our trips, our book groups, and our season tickets. Such externals, while good in themselves, pirate our lives when added together. Our busy schedules and material expectations consume our energy, focus our imagination, and dry our spirits.
It is not until I go on an extended vacation that I realize how trapped I become by the life I create for myself. Removed from my normal, everyday obligations, I can enjoy my spouse, explore the town I’m in, walk along the beach, read fiction, savor the sunrises and the sunsets. Life has a richness far beyond what any of us can produce. It is more a gift to be enjoyed than a task to be managed.
By Bob Mueller | Bob Mueller is a Bishop of the United Catholic Church, bobmueller.org
P.S. Also by Bob Mueller: Finding The Fullness Of Life
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