Last week I practiced being dead. It was the flu. When I told someone that, they asked me, "Was it the throwuppy flu?" At the risk of entering The Land of TMI, no, it wasn't the throwuppy flu. It was the you're-dying-so-you-might-as-well-get-used-to-being-dead flu.

So for several days I did nothing. Reading was out of the question — not only were books simply too heavy to hold, but they made no sense. Black shapes swam on white pages. It was much easier just lying still under 20 blankets, staring at the ceiling with my eyes closed.

Matthew spoke to me from time to time. He was probably speaking coherently, but to my fevered mind he appeared to be saying things like, "The walrus is painting the refrigerator purple and the headphones are dangling under uncanny optimism. Can I answer your octopus?" after which my brain would announce how very very tired it was and Matthew would smile indulgently and walk away. We had many conversations like that. It was restful. I didn't need to understand. And then I would go back to staring at the ceiling with my eyes closed.

When I got a little better I watched movies in Hindi with subtitles. I nearly convinced myself that I had suddenly developed the ability to understand Hindi. I also watched acres of mindless television, something I almost never do, and ended up seeing 7 consecutive episodes of "America's Next Top Model," all strangely alike. I found myself rooting for the girl with the two eyes and the ... hair. I think she had hair. On her head. Yeah, I'm pretty sure.

I didn't open my laptop for days. Even when I started reading email again I'd look at the subject line and sender's name, say "huh!" wonderingly, and then close my eyes again. No need to think. No need to do. Just be.

I'm convinced we all need time like this. Doing absolutely nothing. Some of us are better at it than others. Me, I am abysmal at doing nothing. It took the Death Flu to get me there. Matthew said it was strange to see me just doing nothing.

But you want to know something? After a few days of Doing Something again, back to work and back to the laptop, I miss the doing nothing. The absolute letting-go of it. Sure, I was sick and every cell in my body hurt, but I was also incredibly relaxed. That kind of letting-go was a lot like skydiving. Free. Total immersion in the moment.

How to let go and be in the moment — without the Death Flu

Polaris recently explained a quick way to become more "in the moment." Try it:

Stand, feet hip width apart, and center yourself by rocking forward and back, side to side until you find your center.

Breathe in through the crown of your head. As you breathe in, imagine your breath filling your dantian, the space just below your 3rd chakra and within. Your breath fills this space, energizing it and mixing with your own energy.

As you exhale, imagine this breath now filling all the spaces in your body, down to your fingertips and toes.

Breathe in through your crown into your dantian.

Exhale and send this breath into every cell of your body.

Breathe in.

Exhale.

Do this for several breaths. Feel yourself connect more to your "right now," and release worries, expectations, or thoughts about anything in the past or future. Trying this exercise once or twice a day, with the intention to connect more consciously to the present moment, will have wonderful effects.

Go ahead. Do nothing.

Spend a few minutes a day doing nothing. Not meditating, not thinking — nothing. Take a cue from cats, who know very well how to do nothing. If you know what your True Rest is, incorporate it (one of mine is watching shadows dancing on a wall, and Matthew's is watching clouds passing by) as well.

And just do ... nothing. If thoughts about what you should be doing come up, notice them and then set them free. This is your time — take it! Ten minutes, twenty minutes a day of doing nothing is amazingly rejuvenating. Life-changing.

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written by Tamara, October 04, 2009

Thank you! I think this might be what I needed to hear. I have been having the worst flare of lupus and fibro. My joints are just killing me and my body is begging to stay in bed. I haven't given in and I just keep going. Now I am wondering if this isn't my bodies way of asking me to slow down and do nothing for a day or two. I just have to give myself permission.

Giving yourself permission is key
written by Karen Murphy, October 04, 2009

You're exactly right. And of course you know what could happen is you don't give permission to rest and do nothing ... your body says "to heck with this!" and just takes it.

We are all suffering somewhat in this culture, thinking we have to press on, work through illness, work harder and longer. I've been sucked in to this as well. It takes a strong person to admit they need to slow down. Slowing down isn't a weakness, it's to be savored!

Karen

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written by Jude, October 05, 2009

I spend 10 mins every morning just "being". I find it particularly inspiring to sit in the garden and be. I've even done it in the rain (well I am British!). It's a great way to start the day, just switching off the mind, breathing, being.

I am more grounded, more centred and often I have incredible ideas immediately afterwards that seem to come from nowhere. So somehow, just being enables my creativity to come to the fore.

Funnily enough, slowing down for a short period of time like this actually makes me more productive and more effective for the rest of the day as well.

Nature encourages us to "just be"
written by Karen Murphy, October 05, 2009

You're absolutely right — I walk in the forest frequently and this is always an amazingly creative time for me. It's a good reminder that nature — whether it's a garden or a beach or a forest — encourages us to slow down, stop, and breathe along with it.

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written by twocrows, October 11, 2009

oh, Karen--
I'm sorry you needed to be dead for a while. and, yes, giving into it is the only way to heal. at least it's the only one I've found.

being retired, I've got it easy. I haven't run myself down enough to need to be sick since I left the race. being allowed to live nature's rhythms is so lovely.

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