We are industrious little bees, in constant motion, moving about as if the world will end without our continuous flutter. Sometimes, it seems as if we flit and float about for no apparent reason. Sometimes it feels as if we are busy just for the sake of being busy.
Busy is a crown upon our heads, a medal of honor, a golden plaque given to us by society, a term for those deemed worthy.
But as Socrates says, “Beware the barrenness of a busy life.” Because it is often when we are the busiest that we feel the emptiest.
I think we use ‘busy’ to keep us from life, from friends and family, and from ourselves. I think we use ‘busy’ to hide behind things we don’t want to face. I think that’s what I used to do. But I no longer want to.
Busy was in the stuff I owned, the extra clothes I needed to rearrange in order to fit my other clothes in my drawers, the knick-knacks I had to dust, the craft stuff I needed to sort through. Busy was in my life. But now, much of my stuff is gone, and I can no longer hide behind it, I can no longer be ‘busy,’ for the sake of being busy, for the ease of escaping life. And I no longer want to.
We all have a catalyst that drives us to busy, something that removes us from what really matters. Too often, we are busy being busy. But as Henry David Thoreau says, “What are we busy about?”
I ask you – What are you busy about?