Absence:

Creating Space in Our Lives

“I was trying to daydream, but my mind kept wandering.” ~ Steven Wright

Daydreaming has long been both a problem and a benefit to me. I can often get lost wandering in my mind, escaping the challenges in front of me on my real-life path. Yet, I do find perspective once I start daydreaming of my past. In moments of difficulty, I often find myself reflecting on my childhood memo- ries. Those memories tend to calm me and assure me that things are going to be okay.

I was fortunate to grow up in a rural part of America, the Napa Valley of California. Frequently, my buddies and I would run around the prune orchards that thrived in the fields across the street from my home. We would make tree forts in the autumn that would become our hideaways in winter. In the spring we would run through the fields full of tall mustard weeds sway- ing in the breeze. We would crawl around on the ground like squirrels, tunneling our way through the grass. The summertime would bring out the ripe fruit which we would pick to either eat or throw at each other. We mostly threw them. Reality check: one can only eat so many fresh prunes in a day.

Life was just different back then. We played nearly all day long, from the early sunlight until the streetlights came on. We rode our bikes. Fished in the local creeks. Flew our kites in the strong spring winds. Made our own baseball field in an empty lot. We swam in an above the ground pool that my dad put up in our backyard until the wrinkles on our skin appeared to be permanent. We dug holes in the backyard hoping for a passage to China. We burned our trash and set fire to the fallen leaf piles in the autumn. I know some might find that ecologically igno- rant, but it was a simpler time.

Rare was heard the phrase: “I am bored.” We just did stuff. We didn’t have computers or game consoles. If we were fortunate, we had a transistor radio. The television had four channels to choose from and would sign off the air at midnight. We slept. We ate. We laughed. We cried. We fell down. We got back up again. We used our imaginations. We took flight in our dreams.

Then things changed. We grew up. Seemingly overnight our lives were flooded with decisions to be made and choices to be wrestled with. We moved from our innocent childhoods into the pain of the real world. We began to ask the questions. “Why was the President killed?” “What again is the reason for this war we are in?” “What’s in a body bag?” “What exactly is a ‘Watergate?’”

We became aware of the world around us and began to im- merse ourselves in all of its trappings. We were guided to follow preprogrammed steps: “Here is the path. Walk in it.” College. Career. Companion. Matrimony. Children. Responsibilities. Ownership. A host of other challenges. The list grew long and high of the path we needed to take.

Suddenly, we had no time for anything. Then technology came sweeping in with its broad promise to make our lives easier.

We now pay for apps on our phones that are supposed to make us calm and allow us to produce more in each of our days. We believed the exaggeration that technology promised simplicity in our life and at times are worse for the wear for it. We have become addicted to our devices. We habitually look at the blue screen rather than into the eyes of our neighbors. It has affected everything from our sleep patterns to our personal relationships.

We are now instantly accessible to the world. Technology has become the new idol of our times.

What we have lost in the process of all of this is permission to give ourselves space. To give ourselves permission to just do nothing. To discover that it’s okay to be bored and let our minds wander. To learn that daydreaming, pondering, and pausing is part of the natural order to things. Putting up the “do not disturb” placard on our doors from time to time is truly a great thing.

To do nothing is considered a waste of time for some but not from God’s perspective. Learning to live with absence takes both discipline and initiative. Creating space allows us to be mindful of others and attentive to the situations of life that surround us. It beckons, regardless of our temperament or the thought that sitting in silence isn’t for me.