time to kill (as in waste)

So here I am again. Looking for something to write about, just sitting in the university and waiting for class. I imagine that there is work I could be doing... research for papers or reading for classes or writing emails. There isn't a whole lot that will get accomplished here, but I think that's why it's good and necessary (in some way).

This past weekend Danny and Erin, friends from Regina, came to visit me. And it was a very busy and very social weekend, and it felt complete afterwards. Not like we necessarily accomplished anything (actually, I cleared my life as much as I could for their visit, specifically so there wasn't any need to accomplish anything). And just so we could hang out and be together. I think that this is the most basic element of friendship, well, any relationship, really -- being present.

So, I spent the weekend being present with those around me. But the problem with being present is that sometimes you forget what being absent is. Maybe "problem" is the wrong word. It would likely make more sense to say that being absent, being able to be alone, is necessary. It is a good thing to be able to sit, without any agenda or pressure or entertainment, and let life happen. Like a day of rest, but I'd just as soon call it a period of rest. There are times in life when being active seems to be the only way to get through the day. But at other times, resting, just being quiet and practicing solitude is a source of strength and healing. And I don't think I'm just speaking as an introvert (although that's undoubtedly part of it).

Sleep seems like this to me. I think regardless of the type of person or the way in which you relate to other people, sleep is rest (obviously). But I think it brings a person the quiet that they crave. It's an entirely passive activity. It just kind of happens. All a person has to do is decide that, yes, it is time to sleep. And sometimes people don't even make that decision. Like falling asleep in a movie theatre or after supper on the couch. The body brings you to the point where there's no denying it, you need sleep.

Occasionally I think about how I'd love to not have to sleep. I wouldn't even feel tired. I would simply be free from that need. And I would be able to do all the reading I want to and I'd learn to ice-skate. I'd probably start reading the newspaper and get a second job. I would find time to exercise and always be the last guy at the party. I'd volunteer somewhere I was passionate about. I would get a dog, just because dogs are great. Yes, such great plans... And even though I'd probably just end up getting satellite and watch a ridiculous amount of television, there's a problem (and yes, this time "problem" is the right word); my presence would be worn out. Sleep is necessary because the body needs rest, but it seems that the mind and the spirit need it too.

So, I guess what I'm getting at would be something like this: the need for activity, the need to accomplish and be productive is misleading. Every day, a person has an average of, say, 16 hours to work with. (I probably have a little less because sleep is one of those habits that's hard to break.) And at the end of each day, I'm pretty hard-pressed to say how I spent all that time. But I no longer think that's something to be sad or pissed off about. In a sense, time is meant to be wasted, but the way it's wasted makes a difference.

Here's a song by Bright Eyes that I think seems especially relevant. Don't let it make you sad, because I don't think it is sad. Just try to see it as a statement of "wasted time" and your presence in the world...



Bright Eyes - "Bowl Of Oranges"

The rain, it started tapping on the window near my bed. There was a loophole in my dreaming, so I got out of it. And to my surprise my eyes were wide and already open. Just my nightstand and my dresser where those nightmares had just been. So I dressed myself and left then, out into the gray streets. But everything seemed different and completely new to me. The sky, the trees, houses, buildings, even my own body. And each person I encountered, I couldn't wait to meet. I came up a doctor who appeared in quite poor health. I said "(I am terribly sorry but) there is nothing I can do for you (that) you can't do for yourself." He said "Oh yes you can. Just hold my hand. I think that would help." So I sat with him a while and then I asked him how he felt. He said, "I think I'm cured. No, in fact, I'm sure of it. Thank you Stranger, for your therapeutic smile."

So that is how I learned the lesson that everyone is alone. And your eyes must do some raining if you are ever going to grow. But when crying don't help and you can't compose yourself. It is best to compose a poem, an honest verse of longing or simple song of hope. That is why I'm singing... Baby don't worry cause now I got your back. And every time you feel like crying, I'm gonna try and make you laugh. And if I can't, if it just hurts too bad, then we will wait for it to pass and I will keep you company through those days so long and black. And we'll just keep working on the problem we know we'll never solve of Love's uneven remainder, our lives are fractions of a whole. But if the world could remain in a frame like a painting on a wall. Then I think we would see the beauty. Then we would stand staring in awe at our still lives posed like a bowl of oranges, like a story told by the fault lines and the soil.