On the Utility of Nonreflection


It’s Day Two of the month I’ve given over to reflection. What’s been the outcome so far?

Not much yet. I had the chance last night to indulge in some lengthy introspection, but was too fascinated by the texture of the bedsheets underneath my arms and legs. For nearly an hour, I just lay on my back, marveling at the sensations caused by the encounter between fabric and skin.

It’s been a while since I’ve been able to lie down without falling asleep immediately from exhaustion. Staring up towards the ceiling, my thoughts ran this way:

It was a big deal for me to have spent those long, long moments of almost euphoric vacuity. It was a big deal in two senses: (1) in the sense that I actually had the time; and (2) in the sense that I actually used the time vacuously. (I have recently redefined maturity this way: the state of being able to absolve ourselves for doing nothing; or more concisely, the state of being able to absolve ourselves, period.)

Those moments of blankness (of non-reflection) were fruitful, however, because they carried intimations of what I want 2013 to be about.

Let’s see what today provides.

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