Newton screwed up our lives in other ways too:

The corollary to his first law states that, “A body persists in a uniform motion unless acted upon by an external unbalanced force.”

I know this to be true.  Once I start – once I overcome inertia – I rarely stop.  I barrel ahead.  Full bore. And fall into bed at the end of the day.  Exhausted.

I tend to miss a lot along the way.

I had a secretary once who described me as a hamster on a wheel.  It wasn’t a compliment. (She’s no longer “with us.”) But although I like to think of myself as the Energizer bunny, a hamster is probably closer to the truth.

Remaining in motion does take a toll.  The fast, unceasing pace that most of us keep makes us weary.  It can stress us out.  It can make us sick.

But even more than that, we miss important things.  Like the beautiful muted light that comes on some of these mid-autumn mornings, the smell of the fallen leaves, Jupiter hanging in the cold clear sky, the teenager that needs that rare moment of connection, the partner that needs a hug, the staff member that is suffering with depression.  We skate by.  So that we can get things “done.”

And of course there’s a lot to do.  There’s always a lot to do.  In that great old pocket book by Richard Carlson, Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff, he tells the story of the Golden Gate Bridge.  Did you know that the folks who maintain that bridge paint it every day?  Every single day.  It’s never done.  There’s no expectation that it will ever be done.  And when they get to the end, they start all over again.

Carlson also reminds us that “the ‘in-box’ is always full.”

So if that’s true, is it really important to capitulate to Newton?  If it’s never going to all get done anyway, do we really need to stay in motion?

Perhaps not.

But let’s peel this back a bit further.  The truth is, we do need to get things done. Most of my clients don’t want to hear that I’ll get to their part of the bridge “whenever.” Our creditors usually won’t be impressed with the notion that the last six month’s statements are gathering dust in our “always full” in-boxes. Dinner does need to get on the table.  There really is a “to do” list that has to get done.

The question, I think, is can we be in motion and still appreciate fully what’s going on in our lives?  Can we appreciate the beauty that is all around us even when our life is a blur of motion?

I love this story:

A monk was walking on a path in a jungle. A tiger started chasing him. The faster the monk ran, the faster the tiger ran. Soon two other tigers joined the chase. The monk ran over to the edge of a cliff, grabbed onto a vine and jumped over. As he hung on to the vine, the monk saw below him three tigers waiting for him to fall. Just then, a rat came to the edge of the cliff and began chewing through the vine that the monk was holding on to.

In that moment, the monk glanced up and saw a beautiful ripe strawberry growing on the vine just next to him.  He reached out, plucked the strawberry, and, taking a bite, thought, “my, how delicious this is.”

Our lives are always right here, right now, even in the blur.

Jack Kornfield in his excellent book entitled After the Ecstasy, the Laundry says, “where we are is the place, the only place for the perfection of patience, peace, freedom and compassion.”  He goes on to say that, “To recognize the perfection of ‘things as they are’ is a radical opening of the heart, an awe of the sacred wholeness that underlies all things.  It is always here and we can awaken to it in any situation.”  Even when the tiger chases us.

Jon Kabat-Zinn wrote the book Wherever You Go There You Are.  It’s a great title, isn’t it?  And it’s true. Kabat-Zinn says, “The best way to capture moments is to pay attention.”  The practice of mindfulness is the key, he says.  We are only right here, right now.  Can we pay attention – and open our hearts – even when the rat is gnawing at the vine?

Thoreau closes Walden Pond with this message:  “Only that day dawns to which we are awake.”

Newton’s a jerk.  But a rule’s a rule.  Can we live with that?

We can find beauty both in the still…

 

 

 

 

 

And in the blur…

I exist as I am, that is enough,                                                                                                           If  no other in the world be aware I sit content,                                                                           And if each and all be aware I sit content.

One world is aware, and by far the largest to me, and that                                                             is myself,                                                                                                                                     And whether I come to my own today or in ten thousand                                                               or ten million years,                                                                                                                           I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness,                                                                   I can wait.

– Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass