To Accomplish Nothing

A few weeks ago I just needed a little time by myself. Life had gotten a bit hectic and I felt like it was time to totally disengage for a few hours. It seems like a small thing, and perhaps others are better at unwinding than I am. Either way, I drove down to Balboa Island, purposely locked my cell phone and Fitbit in the car, took a short ferry ride … and then proceeded to wander aimlessly in my favorite wandering grounds for a few hours. My goal, for once, was to simply accomplish nothing. I did write a few poems, including this one, which is a true story. And yes, arguably, that could be categorized as accomplishing something. But if I hadn’t, then you wouldn’t be reading this right now. So enough of my rationalization. I’ll let the story tell itself. However, before I lapse into verse, I would challenge you to take an evening or a day off. Call it “me time.” Call it Sabbath. Call it whatever you like, but sometimes it can be a beautiful thing to step off the treadmill and see where your feet and your heart lead you. And if you end up accomplishing nothing? Well that’s alright. 

To Accomplish Nothing
Seems like I’m always on a mission
Lists to check and things to do
From one task to another
And my work is never through
Always something to accomplish
We just can’t let up the pace
When we’re not at work we exercise
So even leisure is a race
I needed to break the cycle
And climb off the old treadmill
So I made an evening of it
Since I had some hours to kill
I set out to accomplish
Hardly anything at all
To wander randomly about
As these were my hours, after all
It’s strange how walking changes
When you don’t have a goal to meet
Without counting steps or minutes
And you can turn down any street
Try out every park bench
Follow a cat or butterfly
Stop and talk with strangers
Stare at the water or the sky
I jotted down some verses
For a poem or maybe two
Sat a while with my eyes closed
Just to listen for something new
In short, I lived a life of leisure
In its purest form of ease
If only for an hour or two
Just as carefree as you please
I set out to accomplish nothing
Which is a good place to begin
Hoisted the sails of happenstance
And drifted on the wind
Was it an evening wasted?
You be the judge, my friend
But here I am at peace and happy
At my random evening’s end

          By Frank Carpenter ©