Art of doing nothing is a metaphor for reflectiveness.
Quite a lot of humanity in this epoch believes that a high threshold of action is the elixir of life. Without it life is dead.
The action referred to in this essay is the mindless activity engendered by our present culture, which exacts a high toll from our natural tranquility. And the basic tranquility we come with is the supreme essence of human existence. Ancients, though materially much poorer than us, lived at a higher level of harmony with their souls than us.
We need action to do things which are necessary for the process of living, to discharge our responsibilities, and to enjoy life, but blind action as an end by itself may be destructive.
The soul of life lies in the state of its consciousness. And consciousness is the architecture of the knowledge of our existence and its potentials. All experience begins with it and ends with it.
The Age of Technology mercilessly beckons us to action, without values attached to it. We must move to the next planned action or be dropped out of the race. The loss of failure is high but the stakes of the loss of humanity in us are higher.
We wallow through the filtration of our lives by the culture we live in but our souls remain unsatisfied. Herein lies the tragedy of our existence.
The state of being reflective is not only more tranquil but more creative. We bypass the insanities of the world and are focused on eternal values. In the mindless state of action we see the individual trees but forget the forest.
The values of unrestrained action were forged in the crucible of short time material gains, for the success in the world.
Absorb the tranquility of trees, swim in the fluidity of water, dissolve in the openness of space, disappear in the infinity of time.
By not sacrificing reflection we are more poised to look at life and the world in juxtaposition. The impulse to live exceeds the engineering of the life process. In the relaxed state we are more responsible and bring more meaning to life.
In doing nothing we are more in tune with the spirit of nature, whose infinitesimal part we are.
Suffern, New York, 12.29.14; Rev. (1) 1.8.14; Rev. (3) 1.12.14; (4) 11.16.15