For the first time in memory, I’m doing something entirely verboten, taboo, off-limits to me.
I’m being lazy.
All my life I’ve been battling with my Father’s allegations that I was a lazy, no-good good-for-nothing and so I denied myself the luxury of ever being lazy. Absolutely forbidden territory. Never, never be caught there. Any attempt to be lazy under the old regime would have been met with extreme sanctions.
And what did being lazy bring up for me? It caused an explosion of loving, healing energy, as if a primary wound had healed. Being lazy is healing me. Being lazy is digging deeper.
I have to thank the friend who suggested this experiment. She recommended substituting “laziness” for “lethargy” and see what it brought up. Brilliant idea.
Many decades ago, we’d have called what she suggested “paradoxical intention.” Like saying you’re going to stay up all night when you can’t get to sleep? The mind then sets about making you sleepy, rather than keeping you awake?
The massive wheels of the printing press of my mind have now come to a stop, except for this one wee column, which I’ll write … if I feel like it. (I can’t believe I said that. I actually said it. I actually do have boundaries!)
I’m not at the moment marshalling long trainloads of data for storage in some esoteric database, like First Contact, From Darkness Unto Light, or New Maps of Heaven. (2) I’m not answering a landslide of email. I am being totally, unapologetically lazy.
Dare I stretch out like a lion? Dare I look out the window and see only trees? How lazy can I be?
Give me a few days to be entirely lazy and I’ll add it to my toolbox and return to normal. Maaayyybbbbeeeee.
(2) Or those on automation, 9/11, DU…. You get the picture.