Relaxation for the Mind


Osho: "do nothing for half an hour a day, except when you are busy: in that case do nothing for one hour a day ..." How many times I have read these words of Osho already. I often told them to friends as a joke. They were laughing and said: "Yes, we are far too busy."

It is 20:00. The time after which I have decided long ago to do nothing any more on my computer and also to watch nothing any more on tv. Because it generates too many impulses before going to bed. I imagine what I still could do this evening: ironing my laundry, planting seeds in my balcony pots, taking a walk, working on my mandala, cleaning a corner of my apartment. My throat squeezes together with each idea. My body feels tight, all muscles already prepared for the next invented task.

I feel that no matter which task will come up: it will not satisfy me. Even when it's something fun as going to a movie, going to a café, having a drink with a friend.

Then I remember Osho's words "do nothing for half an hour a day, except when you are busy: in that case do nothing for one hour a day"  in a completely different way. It's not a kidding at all. I suspect now that there must be a very deep meaning hidden in it. Actually my whole being is crying out to do-nothing. But I am also afraid of it. The adrenaline flow, that rages through my body, actually feels quite nice and secure. It's so wonderful to float with it. And activity is highly appreciated by the culture, in which I live.

But now I cannot escape any more. I shut down the computer, clean up my table, pull on my coat, unfold my balcony chair and look at my watch. It's 20:00. The tower clock strikes every 15 minutes. So it is easy to sit for half an hour without putting an alarm clock.

There I am.
I suppress my impulses to remove the dead plants from my balcony pots. Then I realize that I can do some stretching exercises for my legs; at least I will do something useful. I am on my feet already, as I remember that this too is a 'doing'. So again I flop down on my seat. Feverishly the thoughts are running through my head. All I have done that day passes by, interspersed with everything I still want to do. I stand up to write down my what-to-do-list, but no, the tower clock has not even struck once, so there is still more than a quarter of an hour to go. Again I sit down.

Then I feel that my thoughts slowly slowly settle down and that they are becoming less compelling. Like sitting along the banks of a muddy river, looking at the mud slowly dropping, and dropping, and dropping. The river is getting brighter.

And at the same time as my thoughts slow down, my feelings come up. Sadness. My not felt sorrow of missing my Indian friend. It's there, on either side at the bottom of both my lungs. Like two lakes, with very small bubbles in it. And the longer I sit, the more it comes up in waves. And soon the first tears are slowly sliding out of my eyes. I cover my face with my scarf: so that the neighbors below will not see my crying. How beautiful is this, feeling my sadness so pure. I understand now, that I kept being so busy to cover my feelings. But now I realize, that it is not bad at all. It even feels nice. I am softer, more mild, more myself. The wind rustles through the new spring leaves of the birch tree. A blackbird is sitting on the branch of the tree before my balcony and it feels as if the bird  is supporting me. Slowly, the dusk is falling. At some houses the lights go on and I see silhouettes move before the windows of an apartment in the distance.

The clock strikes one time. One quarter is over.

Now I like to remain seated. It feels like when I was a kid and was just watching. I then observed everything, just as it was. Then I was still good at it: just watching, without any effort.
That was before I got to hear: "just do something!"

A small black mouse runs over. Very quickly. So cute. I didn't know that it was living on my balcony. It climbs into a small tree, that just started growing in one of my balcony pots, and dangles there for a few seconds. It runs to the other side of the balcony, where another little mouse appears from behind a pot. I notice, that I don't want them coming into my apartment, those mouses, deciding to trust.

Then a thick black raven lands on my balcony wall. Frantically he begins to pick up on one of the six suet balls, which I had hung up to the rod of m balcony. I keep myself as still as possible. But then his beady eyes see,  that I am sitting there and quickly he flies away.

The first star appears before my eyes. So bright and sparkling. The branches of the trees are becoming almost black now, with the dark blue sky behind.

The clock strikes nine times. On every half hour it strikes the number of strokes of the full hour. The half hour is over. Grateful, soft and mild I enter my apartment...