For ages I have told everyone that I don't do very much, that I in fact really enjoy living a quiet life. So now it feels very strange to suddenly have quite a lot to do. It's a funny thing that sometimes when there is a lot that needs to be done, time begins to feel "wasted" and vaguely guilty feelings arise that whatever I'm presently engaged in is not the best use of my time. There is probably some truth in this somewhere. Something about the work I'm doing, or more likely the way I'm doing it, is life-stealing. Perhaps there is too much pride in my work (funny how this is considered a positive thing), or my thoughts about it are pulling me out of the here and now. Maybe I have not taken the time to pray/meditate, or am somehow hiding from God and myself, pretending to be someone I am not. Like a dishonest actor I lack character when I lose perspective and assume my work to be more important than it is. What happens when a seed of truth lands in the wasteland of self-important activity?
There is also something a bit greedy about my busyness, (just how, I blush to admit, there was a lot of selfishness behind some of my laziness disguised as contemplation). Not that being busy is always wasteful or greedy any more that being not-busy always refers to laziness. Deep down, I know the difference. I wonder if I always remembered that nothing that is hidden remains so whether I would maybe put more trust in the promptings of my heart than in the cover of darkness or obscurity. But to always remember requires a life of constant prayer.
