Oops! Usually I like to note a post when it falls on an even hundred. After all, this only happens two or three times a year. But it's been unnaturally busy. I wonder a little if busy is simply the new normal. It's not just being a doctor; so many of my friends outside of medicine also have lives that move so fast, hobbies that soak up free time, projects they commit to. Is this a phenomenon of our generation and time? Or is it simply the way things have always been, and I've been too oblivious to notice?
Sometimes, I wish I could find some measure of tranquility, some calm where I can breathe. There is so much I should reflect on. I try to, in this blog. There are patients and families I want to think about. Reactions that I want to examine. Desires and hopes I want to pursue. Doubts I need to clarify. Experiences I want to write. Medical knowledge I'd like to acquire.
I have a friend who meditates each weekend, for hours at a time. He spends an entire afternoon simply in nature, focusing, relaxing, observing, listening, seeing. Every weekend, he takes a day where he doesn't talk to anyone. He simply exists. I admire him so much for that.
I worry sometimes that this world has too much stuff, too much excitement, too much going on. I have totally bought into it. But I wonder what it would feel like if we could slow everything done, just for a little bit. These are some of the meandering thoughts I have as I finish my week in the critical care unit.
Keeping Quiet by Pablo Neruda
ReplyDeleteNow we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
for once on the face of the earth,
let's not speak in any language;
let's stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about...
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with
death.
Now I'll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.
lovely poem...thank you! i always enjoy neruda
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