Wednesday, July 7, 2021
“Set me free from the laziness that goes about disguised as activity when activity is not required of me, and from cowardice that does what is not demanded in order to escape sacrifice.” Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation (p. 47).
Countless people reminded me how lucky I was to have my first sabbatical this past spring semester.
And I acknowledge my good fortune, not only for the change of pace, but also for the break during a difficult year.
But there was something uncomfortable about this past semester. I missed the classroom. I missed my colleagues and students. I missed my office. I missed my office calendar with multiple defined events scheduled throughout the day. I even missed my commute and faculty meetings. I missed--believe it or not--busyness.
While I had an endless amount of research and childcare responsibilities last semester, I realized that this was likely the least scheduled I’ve been since early childhood. For the first time that I can remember, I wasn’t constantly thinking about the next thing on my calendar.
I have always been fairly future oriented, and I think legal training makes you even more focused on the future. Good lawyers, especially good transactional lawyers, see around the corner, predict possible problems, and address these issues in contracts. Good lawyers tend to be planners with a high capacity for time management.
Prior to my spring sabbatical, I felt like my mind was always about 15 minutes ahead of my body. I didn’t even really realize this until I slowed down some during the sabbatical. The sabbatical allowed me, for the first time in memory, to be fully present. This full presence only happened in spurts, and it was both glorious and terrifying.
In Leaving the Future Behind, an essay in The Art of Loading Brush, Wendell Berry reminds us that the present is the only time we are alive. Preoccupation with the future, fearful worries or even hopeful wishes, threaten to draw us out of the present. And the present is where both good work and good relationships exist.
Without a doubt, we must still make time for planning, but this sabbatical started teaching me to cabin that planning time and to live more in the present than in the future. In addition, making time for silence is something I hope to continue. (I spent a day of silence at a convent in Dickson, TN and became a bit more consistent with taking a few minutes of stillness in the early mornings). Regular observance of outward silence--which is quite difficult with 3 young children in the house--can help cultivate inner silence and can lead to the mental stillness needed to reside fully in the present.