Staying Still

"Nobody is bored when he is trying to make something that is beautiful or to discover something that is true."- W.R. "Dean" Inge; Anglican Priest and Cambridge Professor (1860-1954)

 I am hardly, if ever, bored.

 I don't know if it it's because I love to read (anything), eat (same answer), nap (anywhere), daydream (all the time) or just plain think.

 I am perfectly comfortable doing nothing- as my motto for these past few decades is time wasted is not wasted time.

 I don't worry if the early bird eats the worm, I miss the midnight train, or the world passes me by.

 I am not really in an all out hurry to get anywhere.

 I have always been comfortable with where I'm at in the moment.

 My children.  Not so much.

When I was their age, when I was bored, I would pick up a volume of my grandfather’s collection of burgundy colored hard-covers-Shakespeare’s As You Like It, was one of the first plays I ever read.  I would look for signs in the clouds during the day; the big dipper and fireflies at night.  I ate crabapples from their backyard and flung the skinny cores over the fence so their neighbor’s goat had something to eat.

I never complained.

My girls are evidently not on the same page; the one mapped out of my childhood.  Theirs is a much different narrative.  I often wonder where I went wrong.   

See, they are bored at the drop of the hat, let down by the shake of the empty cereal box, and dejected at the dreaded depleted power button on their wireless palm held players of DVD’s.

There is no doubt I am doing them a disservice.  If anything, I want them to grow up knowing the world owes you not a damn-excuse my language-thing.  It’s up to them to seek out adventure, fill up their proverbial cup, and let the tides of life soak through them.

I want them drenched and wet.  Not scared to go out into the rain.

So, I am going to change a few things up, shut down the whiny, relentless sleepovers, put the ke-bosh on all the complaining, and will- from this day forward- refuse to be privy to their demands to be entertained 24-7.

I survived.

Didn’t you?

So, for me, I implemented …..  The Bored Jar.

It’s simple, really.  Whenever your dependents complain there isn’t a single thing on God’s green earth to do- have them stick their little hand in this:  A mason jar, tin can, or shoe box (really, anything will do) filled up with the following “random” choices written in stubby crayons on torn-off pieces of scrap paper.  Here’s a quick example:

·         Play Lego’s with Mom for hours, after which she will clean the whole mess up, make you cookie’s and care-less about what time you go to bed.

·         Organize, with absolutely no help from anyone over the legal age of 18, the entire house full of Lego’s into color coordinated bins, labeled to size and description, including all classification and lamentation of said instructions.

·         Two hours with any craft-any time-extra glue-moderate glitter with zero complaining of “remember the last time you did that, it took a good 5 inch chunk out of my Oriental rug.”

·         Two hours of peeling two years of super glue off the table, vacuuming a decade’s worth of sparkles from the carpet, and cleaning all the toilets and litter box to boot.

Even the 12 and under set know that’s a crap shoot-it’s 50/50.  It’s the equivalent of thinking you’re going in to construct a fairy princess or a matchbox hot rod out of a few pipe cleaners, a handful of tooth picks and spun sugar, only to be folding the whites, sifting out your winter socks, and wondering what is Mom (since you had to scrub and wash the fridge) cooking for dinner.

Mine, I shake that Bored Jar and they are out playing ball in the cul-de-sac in a New York minute.

Where they should be.

If I can teach them anything, while I still have them, it’s to: be still but still seeking, be contemplative but never complacent, stay reflective in spirit so they may always shine, and lastly, be spontaneous but wise so they will find what they need and be happy with what they have.

Bored is, like everything else, a word…not a state of mind. Beauty and Truth…words, too…but in their natural stripped down essence.  Well, those are for my girls to find. 

Happy Hunting.

Now, go out and look for them.