What better than this?

A mini-epiphany

10am.

I’m walking the baby in the park for his morning nap, pushing the buggy through unkempt grass, in a circuit around oak trees and wildflowers. I notice I’m speeding — pushing my child to the finish line so he can fall asleep and I can get back home to work.

Just before taking the baby out, writing my morning to do list, I put words to a question that was on my mind: “What focus to improve asset situation?” Then I crossed out ‘improve’ and wrote ‘transform’. This seemed like a good question, a proper way of framing the eternal problem of what to do with myself. Enough philosophising, time to get down to business! Writing can go out the window, for a start.

I held the question in my mind as I wheeled the baby to the park, though the fresh cool breeze in the leaves tugged at my mind, loosening its grip on remembered tasks. As we rolled down a corridor of enclosing trees a memory of happiness flashed into my mind: an image of walking to school on a wet morning, the whole of life to look forward to — infinite space to study and dream!

What chance of that now, with kids and ‘assets’ to build?

I covered the bonnet of the pram and put my head down like a dutiful ox, setting off on our regular circuit around the grass, under oaks and plane trees, ducking to avoid the soft purple leaves of a beech.

So here I am.

Barely looking around me at the splendour of the day, I wonder if this is the most exercise I am going to get all day, simutaneously admiring how methodical and disciplined I have become since having our second child.

The baby murmurs as we trundle over bumps and paths, gently quieting as we move. Then silence. I walk us in a circle and head towards the exit, pausing to let a trio of friends social distance themselves before setting off.

The pause becomes a stop. I am in the middle of the park, the grass is dripping with the weight of last night’s rain. Something in the scent and spirit of nature comes over me. I breathe it in. My body says: let’s not move just yet.

An ease steals into my being. I think: What better than this?

What if I were to achieve something wonderful and difficult in the years ahead, what would it all be for: Pleasure? Too fleeting. Children’s happiness and growth: Yes — but to what end? Money might buy us some feeling of security, but for what? We’d use it for this… this… breathe of nature, this stillness… this union.

All those things I strive for and worry about achieving: What for if not this?

For a moment I feel it. It seems to be right here. I could simply take it now and dispense with all the worry.

What else is there to aim for?

Into the stillness, like a cool wind on a summer’s day — an inspiration; an idea. I know what my focus will be. I have the idea for a chapter I need to write.

This chapter.

Words form in my head, and move through my whole body: no tips or techniques — just a story of something I know. I start up the path, fast. It’s enough for me.

Baby and I walk home.

—

This article first appeared as a chapter in the book Busy Doing Nothing, inspired, compiled and edited by Laurence McCahill at The Happy Startup School.