I think “doing” began replacing “being” in Kindergarten and was slowly reinforced until there was no “being” left. I walked into my Kindergarten room for the first time all ready and excited to “be” and was told right away what I must “do”. I must raise my hand before I speak. I must wait to play with the fun things until my work is done. I must wait patiently in line to wash my hands. I must not speak unless spoken to. All of these things were good to know and understand, except somewhere “being” stopped. Maybe it was the peer pressure to “do” what everyone else was doing. Or maybe, it was my inner drive to “do” the best at everything that didn’t allow me take a break and just “be”. I became very good at “doing” all the right things. I was a straight ‘A’ student, played volleyball, basketball, sang in the school select choirs from 7th grade on, served in student body government, and even served in leadership at my church. Often I slept for only three or four hours a night, just to get up and do it all over again. I was honored and petted as one of the best but no one, not even I knew that something had been lost, something that I needed badly but didn’t know how badly.
It wasn’t until I was involved in a terrible accident where my sister went into a coma the beginning of my senior year of high school that I realized that I had no reserves to face this tragedy. Two of my friends were seriously injured and my brother and I were traumatized but less injured. I was driving. One of my friends was also in a coma. I was mostly dead, figuratively; too stressed out and emotionally depleted to handle anything like this. I ran from the hospital my sister was at to hospital my friend was at back to my home where my brothers were left alone during all this. I kept trying to “do” something to put all the pieces back together, trying to “do” anything to make life “be” o.k. again. There was nothing I could “do” and I no longer remembered how to “be” and I needed to “be” so badly. I remember one night when I fell on my scabbed up knees pleading to the Lord to help me. For a moment I felt some of His “Being” wash over me. It felt so good, so peaceful, so opposite of everything I was feeling at that moment. I wanted more of it but I had lost my ability to “be” and all I could do was climb into bed and sleep.
Months later, my friend had somewhat recovered but my sister was still in a coma. It was spring. I don’t think I ever appreciated a spring as much as I did then. I remember an afternoon where I laid on the sunny hammock in our backyard staring up into the leaves and branches of our Big Leaf Maple. It reminded me of a tree in my backyard when I was really young. I could only reclaim bits and pieces of that memory but I remember loving the different shades of green as the sun played with the layers of leaves and I remember loving the blue sky peaking through as those leaves rustled in a beautiful warm breeze. I remember a fuzzy caterpillar crawling on a leaf and the wonder I felt at the softness and peacefulness of that small creature. I remember playing with ladybugs and the pure innocent joy I felt. It had been years since I had simply sat under a tree and felt mesmerized by the color and peace that is there. As I swung in that sunny hammock, I was “being”. I wondered how I could keep that feeling with me. But life moved on, my sister died a week before graduation and within three months I was off to college.
I must have done an o.k. job at “being” at college, at least at the beginning, because I failed every one of my classes my first semester. I just couldn’t get back into life. I couldn’t get back into “doing”. I played a lot and enjoyed the time off. Though I realize now that was expensive time off. All I wanted was to free myself from my pain and find a way to “be” like a child again. But I knew I couldn’t continue to “be” like this forever so I began to “do” again. I eventually got passing grades but didn’t get an ‘A’ until my final art class before I got married in the middle of my third year. Then by the end of the next year, I had my first baby. She was so beautiful, so fun and so full of life and though I suffered from depression, I loved every moment I had with her. She was the epitome of “being” and when I was with her, I was reminded often about how wonderful “being” was. But I couldn’t “be” like her…I was a mom and had to “do”! I had so much to “do”. “Doing” became my life again. I’d take time to play with my beautiful child when she needed me, or gaze wistfully out at her when I had to clean while she enjoyed “being” for “being’s” sake alone. I was still caught in the cycle of “doing” with very little “being”.
A little less than a year ago, I was sitting in my car waiting for that same beautiful daughter to finish her early morning scripture study class. She was 14 and I was still really good at “doing” but was finally praying more devotedly to find my ability to “be”. But ironically, I was reading my scriptures and pondering what I needed to “do” for the day. As I sat there in my car I had a feeling that there were some flowers or herbs that were ready to be picked. I was in the mode of harvesting herbs; it was that time of the year. I had already harvested the wild St. John’s Wort buds making St. John’s Wort honey and St. John’s Cottonwood buds and a couple other herbs. I love this time of the year and we are fast approaching it again. It feels like Christmas when I find these wild herbs, simply waiting for me to pick them. A sense of gratitude always overwhelms me as I harvest them. So, when I had the thought that there might be some herbs waiting for me, I quickly got out of the car and began exploring.
I followed my nose around the edge of the property but all the stinging nettle was old and spent and there didn’t seem to be anything else that I needed. At the very back of the property there was a single daisy plant with two perfect daisies on it. Early morning dew glistened on the petals. I was enchanted and picked one. I took it back with me to the car pondering why I would feel some herbs were there for me to “do” something with when there was none, I must have been mistaken. I looked at the precious daisy and took a bunch of pictures of it from all different angles. The little dew drops gleamed like crystals on the petals. I found almost thirty minutes of joy from that one simple daisy with dew on it.
As I was texting my brother one of my pictures that morning, I realized what is probably plainly obvious to you right now. There wasn’t something for me to harvest that morning, or something more to “do”. I was invited to feel something, to enjoy something. I was invited to simply “be” that morning. At that moment, I finally got it. I realized that “being” can’t be chased by “doing” more. “Being” only happens when I slow down and enjoy what is all around me to enjoy. “Being” is allowing myself to feel the joy that dew on daisies bring and taking the time to follow those feelings that lead me to little daisies with dew.
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