Doing Nothing
Thursday, December 20, 2018
It is impossible for the man who does nothing to be happy.
Aristotle
El que nada
no se ahoga.
Spanish maxim often repeated to me by my grandmother
Not too long ago I had a chat with one of my granddaughters
at a Starbucks. Since I am an old man I think I may have an ability (not
proven) of being able to hand out advice. I told her that there were two approaches to her life. One
was to attempt to achieve happiness and the other contentment.
The difference, I told her, was that the first, happiness, was
more difficult and far more stressful while the latter was simpler. I then
asked her what she would eventually choose. I was happy to listen to her state,
“Happiness.”
Today I asked Rosemary when she had her last day of work.
She told me it was in 2007. This would mean that she has been retired now for
almost 11 years. As a freelancer I had no abrupt cutting off date. It was slow
and in the end when the Georgia Straight asked me if I would handle an
assignment, I told them that I was through.
So my cameras sit in my little Kitsilano studio mostly not used
and I putter in the garden. I cook for my Rosemary and scan my roses. I sit in
front of this monitor and write a blog. I have written now 4645 blogs. Many are quite long. A recent
one on Holden Caulfield’s Central Park Lake ducks had someone write, “Nice
picture.”
As a freelance magazine photographer I used to compete with
writers for space. I was there one day when Vancouver Magazine art director
Chris Dahl went to editor Mac Parry and told him, “Alex took a nice shot and I
want to use it as a double-page spread. Can you axe some of Ben Metcalf’s
words?” Obviously I did not particularly care what happened to Metcalf’s fine
essay. My photograph was going to run big.
All that changed the moment I began to write stories to
which I also took pictures. Then I became ambivalent.
With my blog after so many of them I believe I may have
reached a point where my writing may be at least seen as efficient. And yet not
too many of my blogs ever get any opinions on the thoughts or opinions being
stated. Perhaps there is no time for reading and just looking and liking a
photograph is all but sufficient. But I must add here that my original blog gave me the opportunity to accept comments. I rapidly found out that there were too many people out there with plenty of time to write quite offensive comments.
In the last month I have been hit by terrible ennui with a
touch of weltzchmerz. My grandmother would have instantly told me, “Ante pereza,
diligencia.” This means that you must counter laziness with diligence. Or she
would have said, “El que nada no se ahoga.” This translates as, “He who swims
does not drown,” but there is a curious play of words in that nada not only
means swim but also nothing.
These days I wake up and have breakfast in bed with
Rosemary, the New York Times and our two cats Niño and Niña. I cook
lunch/dinner and we may go out shopping at Safeway or these days those last
Christmas gifts. By 6 it’s Rachel Maddow on MSNBC. Then its bed with a novel or
short stories.
Days zip by like an express train at the station it does not
stop.
I want to quit writing these. But if I do there will even be
less purpose for the day. What then?
There are the distractions of planning a trip or the problem
of getting someone to fix our kitchen after last month’s leak. There is the
buying of the ingredients for the dessert we must make for this year’s first,
Chrismas Eve not at our home, but at Hilary’s in Burnaby.
And before we know it, 2019 will be here. What then? How would I have ever suspected that life without stress would be stressful?
I wish my granddaughter would come to me and ask me, “Do
you want to be happy or is being content good enough for you?”