I came across a couple articles the other day in my research. The topic was busyness, and its impact on our lives, and the lives of those proximate to us.
The first article, The Disease of Being Busy, hits at the heart of what it means to be “American.” This desire to check stuff off lists, make progress, get ahead, and keep up with the latest trends. But just because that’s how we operate, doesn’t mean it’s what’s best for us.
How did we create a world in which we have more and more and more to do with less time for leisure, less time for reflection, less time for community, less time to just… be?
This disease of being “busy” (and let’s call it what it is, the dis-ease of being busy, when we are never at ease) is spiritually destructive to our health and wellbeing. It saps our ability to be fully present with those we love the most in our families, and keeps us from forming the kind of community that we all so desperately crave.
The next article, The Thief of Intimacy, Busyness, took the same theory and applied it directly to our close relationships.
We live in a culture that celebrates activity. We collapse our sense of who we are into what we do for a living. The public performance of busyness is how we demonstrate to one another that we are important. The more people see us as tired, exhausted, over-stretched, the more they think we must be somehow… indispensable. That we matter.
But what happens when we give in to this pace of life? Safi explains his struggle in being a father to his daughter:
I am a good baba, I know I am. I know it every time her beautiful face lights up when she sees me. I work hard. I try to be a good colleague, a good son, a good friend, a good partner, a good sibling. It’s not about how much I love her (“right up to the moon and back”). It’s about the time that she has my undivided attention. It’s about the quality of time in which I am wholeheartedly present. She, my love, is always present.
The struggle is real…