It’s been awhile, blogfriends. What with work and church and impending fatherhood I just found myself too busy to……
You don’t believe that, do you? That I’ve been too busy to write? I mean, I know I majored in theatre arts, but my literary acting skills are just as poor as my physical acting skills (I prefer directing- https://christinandale.wordpress.com/2010/12/07/life-is-a-circus/)
The thing is, and I’ve noticed this all the more while working in a real work environment, that we’ve made busyness into a bit of a status symbol. Like keys on your keychain, the more things you have to do earns you a certain respect, a certain charm, a certain I don’t know what. Busyness, like my grandmother’s stationary workout bike, helps to maintain the illusion that a lot of “going” must surely mean you’re going SOMEWHERE.
Problem is, busyness does not often pan out the way you want it to. I’m generally perfectly available for things I find enjoyable, but just busy enough to avoid things I don’t like.
Taking a long vacation abroad? I’ve earned it. Keeping food on the table and wild animals away from the homestead has tuckered me out.
Taking a Saturday morning to help my parents move? They probably should’ve been considerate and asked me sooner. Strenuous spontaneity is risky this time of year, and besides my pregnant wife needs me home.
The best of it is that busyness tends to fill in all the ambiguous gaps that would otherwise just make us look lazy. The word “busy” can even be usefully applied to non strenuous tasks: I was busy watching TV. I was busy eating dinner. I was busy sleeping. Building a reputation as a hard worker has never been so easy!
Here’s the thing, my generation, we aren’t THAT busy (excepting a few). The people whose schedules truly are the most packed often manage their time that much more efficiently, and usually never cop out behind a faux shield of busyness. I remember a brief stint of a few weeks where I managed every day in 30 minute increments, and the results were alarming (and convicting). I think George Whitfield, or John Wesley, or one of those crazies, managed their days in even shorter 5 minute bursts. This was before cars, cell phones, computers, or television (though some of those are very much double edged swords). Do you realize how much unclassified time slips through the cracks, only to be posthumously labeled as “busy”? I’ll be busy calculating that for the next…4 hours.
Anyway, I’ll have a baby in the next few weeks, and I’ll probably retract all of this. Instead of saying I’m busy I’ll just say I spend every waking minute changing diapers or something.