The Importance of Percolating

The opportunity for spending time doing nothing in particular seems to be becoming extremely rare.  Like many children, my school days were ordered by a timetable which dictated where I would be and what I would be doing.  During the holidays, I faced a daily quiz each breakfast-time about how I would pass the hours till it was time for tea. 

For many of us, most of the hours spent at work belong to others and has to be justified in terms of what someone more senior believes we should be doing.  Within the time that is our own the range of responsibilities we have acquired, through whatever route, further impact on the opportunities we have for doing nothing in particular.

I believe that we are distracted by applying ourselves in a half-hearted way to tasks whose value is measured mainly in the time and effort we expend.  It would seem to be enough that we have been doing something without feeling the need to look too closely at what has actually been achieved.

Taking time for meditation is often expressed as doing something, even though successful practice requires us to strictly limit our focus.  Perhaps we feel a need to ascribe intention to what may feel like an absence of intention, to the point where we must express inaction as an action.

Our bodies are constantly active in all the various processes needed to support life, without our explicit involvement, and most of these continue even when we sleep.  When we choose to act there is a layer of intention that involves a greater degree of engagement as we attend to particular details.  Between these two positions there is a space when we are conscious without consciously acting.

I may be sitting staring out of the window with my eyes focusing on an unseen horizon, or gazing into the fireplace as fingers of flame reach up the chimney.  Something is taking place even though I may not be fully aware of what it might be or my contribution to the process.  My heated creativity drips slowly through the grounds of my knowledge and experience to produce something of value. 

Whatever its origins, the idea of needing to be occupied with something regarded as worthwhile, either by you or those around you, undervalues this time used for percolation.  The issue is not just about the name we choose to apply to the activity of inactivity, but about the value we ascribe to it and our expectations of the experience.

I believe that there is a need for regular reflection, which becomes more pressing as we fill our time with other activities.  This is not something that we can pursue explicitly as it has more to do with creating an environment in which it will take place.  The focus needs to be on a passive allowing rather than an active doing.  Even when this happens, does there need to be an output to evidence process, and do we need process to justify the time that we have set aside?

It helps to have a blank page to allow the creation of something new.  Any lines, shapes or colours already in place will restrict or even direct our actions.  It may be that the blank page is intimidating or creates an obstacle to that first pencil’s touch, though I wonder if this is only the case when there is a compulsion to produce.  Can we usefully contemplate the blank space and still leave it untouched?

There will always be times when we must resist the pressure to justify our stillness, so that we can stare into the space between conscious and unconscious action.   Only then may come the slow dripping of creative flow that will sometimes distill a precious brew but which is just as likely to trickle away leaving very little behind. 

To appear to be doing nothing without expecting any result can bring far more satisfaction than filling the space with an empty something whose final outcome will be worth so much less.  

© 2015 Michael Golding