Rest and Recreation

I'm on vacation this week with my family. We've had a fun and relaxing time--except when it hasn't been relaxing. I have this way of just turning off when I go on vacation. I try to let go of schedules and projects and anything that "needs" to be done, and I find that this recharges my batteries to a degree. My mind, with no focus, tries to float in the ether, and it has a certain spring in its step when returns to ground.

So far, so good, right? Except that letting my mind just float often offers little relaxation. When I let it float--when I let it on its own with no guidance or direction--it too often sets off on its own course. Unfortunately, my mind sets a course that resembles a drunken sailor when it has no goal. (Not that I've ever seen a drunken sailor, but I liked the image.) It's not just that it wanders. It weaves, and spins and turns in on itself. My mind, when left on its own, joins the monkeys, and soon I'm dizzy and anything but relaxed.

I need to learn to practice, even when I'm on vacation. I want rest, but even more I want recreation when I have a time away. Time away means putting away the distractions--the urgent things that try to possess us. But it doesn't mean that I need to put away practice. I don't need to put away the pursuit of peace. That's what I'm doing when I practice mindfulness, I'm pursuing peace. Why would I want to rest from that?

In some sense, this is just a practical point. Thich Nhat Hanh points out repeatedly that mindfulness practice is more restful than a nap, and Thomas Keating will say the same thing about centering prayer. A nap--and for me, vacation is often like an extended nap with activities--a nap tries to let our minds turn off, but really it just turns the mind over to itself and its propensity for spinning. A practice of mindfulness or quiet prayer, on the other hand, occupies the mind with silence. It engages the mind in rest. Our minds demand engagement. They are like three year olds. The question is whether we'll leave them to their own devices, or will we devise an engagement that suits our purpose. (If you don't know which is the better choice, let me assure you as the father of a three year old, don't leave them on their own.)

What strikes me, as I ponder this--peace is something positive. It is a pursuit, an activity, a positive content of the mind. We don't find peace just by absenting ourselves from distraction. We find peace--we recreate--by actively engaging ourselves with peace. Peace is a focus, and it's a focus I need to maintain even on vacation.