Just Be

New York never stops, but occasionally it is forced to slow down. A two-day blizzard is one of those things that can force this electric, sparkling, ever-moving city to take a slower breath. And that's what happened. It snowed and snowed and then snowed some more, and the cabs and buses had to slow down, subways were delayed, schools closed down, some people couldn't get to work, and everyone looked out their window to see their familiar views coated with a blinding white dripping curtain that spelled, "stop, stay, be still."

If you were to ask me, I would say my life is not rushed. I don't ever overbook myself, I don't overwork myself, I do things every day to slow me down. I am intensely aware of how stiff New York can make me, and so I constantly keep my "armor" in check. I think I do a pretty good job of keeping an open heart and a soft exterior. I think I have not let New York City's sleepless rush get to me, for the most part.

And yet...

I was pacing around my apartment. I called my friends and no one wanted to do anything. I looked at my desk and there was no work to be done. I often read plays when I'm alone, only to end up acting them out by myself all over my living room, but I had done that the night before and wasn't feeling inspired. My nails were done. My hair was done. My apartment was clean. My laundry was done. There was nothing to cook. I wasn't upset about anything so there was nothing to obsess over. There was simply nothing to watch on TV, and I don't like watching TV anyway. I didn't even want to watch a movie. Somehow, I didn't even have a book I wanted to read.

Essentially, I had nothing to do but just be.

What a rare gift that is, and how little value is attributed to it, I discovered.

I sat on my big comfy arm-chair with a blanket. I sat there with myself and thought, Ok, I'll just sit here until the next thing comes up. Boredom can be a good thing, I thought, it doesn't necessarily have to be something I have to try to get rid of when it shows up. I can just sit with my boredom for a change. I can sit with impatience too. I can sit with loneliness. I can sit with silence. I can sit with the noise in my head and not try to change it. I can sit with lack of inspiration. I can sit with anxiety.

I found out that I am afraid to just be with myself and sit with all these things because I place my worth and the value of each day on how much I "get done". Even if what I get done in a day consists of talking to a friend over coffee for a few hours, going to yoga, and then cooking dinner for myself, it still makes me feel more accomplished than if I sit around doing nothing. It terrifies me to let a whole day go by where I've done nothing. To not even have a productive thought throughout an entire day. I am afraid that if that happens, it will mean that I am empty.

There is a famous acting exercise where an actor goes up on stage and stands in front of her colleagues and does nothing, usually for a few minutes. Or tries to do nothing. Tries to just be, in front of people. I have been made to do this exercise countless times in classes, workshops, rehearsals, etc., and I always felt that I am terrible at it. I get so anxious and afraid of doing nothing in front of people that I almost poop. I am filled with a fear of not being entertaining. Of being painfully boring. Moreover, because I am on stage, I feel an obligation to do something, to move the people who are watching me in some way. It feels completely unnatural to do nothing. I usually spend my whole time up there waiting for it to be over and wondering why the hell I am being made to do that.

So, as I was sitting around with myself, sitting with all the discomfort and anxiety of doing nothing, I was forced to face myself and all my fears and feelings. Soon enough a voice came up, that sounded like an older version of myself, saying, quite forcefully but not unkindly, Hey, sometimes, you're boring. Sometimes, you're not entertaining- not even to yourself. Sometimes, you don't have to do anything. Sometimes you're not patient or exciting or calm or any of those good things you like to be. And that's ok. That's part of being human.

This realization came as a relief, and I sat there feeling a tremendous weight had been lifted from my chest. I was able to breathe very deeply because there was so much more space inside me, I wasn't cluttered with the heavy need to do something useful or create something meaningful. I could relax. I could, finally, just be.

I can see now I was overdue for a day of slowing down. I needed a blizzard to hit the city and life to strangely yet perfectly align itself so that I could to spend a whole day with myself. And, as it turns out, allowing myself to do nothing ended up being anything but empty. In fact, I think it might have saved my life.