There's a rather large reptile sunning on the backyard deck. He's found a hot spot on the splintering wooden boards and appears to be bobbing his head to, "hear comes the sun," which is currently gagging its way out of my speakers. Pandora, I asked for Paul Simon, why did you give me the Beatles? But the reptile seems pleased with the music choice (thanks Pandora). His brown body is speckled and cracked, he looks like a miniature crocodile. Think 9 inches-- big for a lizard, small for a crocodile. He looks so pleased with himself, or maybe he is just mean-mugging the deer currently trying to consume his shady resting place.
In any case, I admire his approach to life. He has time, and with it he has made a conscious, choice to stand in the sun, warm himself, relax. I find that empty time on my hands is spent chasing after the next thing I should be doing or accomplishing. If we are lucky enough to allow a few minutes of unscheduled time for ourselves during the day, don't we usually try and fill it with something? Just so the silence of time doesn't allow our thoughts to surface too prominently. I know I do this.
A day of nothing planned, I've experienced so many of these this year. I did my best to appreciate them, and recognize that eventually my sojourn would be over, and it would be back to the fast lane; to work and bills and life. And now that I'm burgeoning back into normalcy (if there is such a thing), I am confused by empty time. All or nothing, in my head. If I have a morning free, but an afternoon task, I find little and unimportant jobs to preoccupy my time until the afternoon.
I'd rather be like my lizard friend (I guess he likes Pink Floyd too) though, and appreciate what it is to do nothing. No TV, no cleaning or cooking or eating or drinking or sipping (for that matter)... just soaking in life. There is so much of it around us to be felt. My skin doesn't absorb and use sunlight the same way my new friend's does, but I can still appreciate the warmth, the silence, and the free time. Thanks little guy.