What is This Life if Full of Care?

'What is this life if, full of care,

There is no time to stand and stare...'*

Today, as I hurried to catch the tram, I passed a scene that caught my imagination and sent me scurrying back into memories of my childhood. In the early morning sunshine a workman had set up on the pavement, ready for his day's work, two trestles with a piece of new, white wood balanced across them. A small pile of wood was propped up by the open door of the house and a little boy with a smart green T shirt and the blondest of Dutch hair looked out from the window, eyes wide with anticipation. The youngster had evidently found his own morning's work, spellbound at the window, watching the odd-job man's every move.

The scene sparked something in me as I remembered simultaneously the lines from W.H. Davies' poem and a morning that I vividly recall from my childhood. It was raining torrents and I wanted to go out to play. Five years older than me, my sister was already at school. My mother was busy with baking. It was up to me to amuse myself for a while. Frustrated because I wanted to play in the garden, I began to idly watch the rain droplets as they gathered on the window of our half-glazed back door. The watching turned into a game and for a long while I stood in a happy daydream gazing at the rivulets of water pouring down the glass, gathering together, receiving tributaries of water from other parts of the window, joining, dividing and transforming themselves into patterns before they finally slid down the window and disappeared off the bottom. Isn't it amazing the capacity one single solitary child has for inventing playful activities and filling time in a totally non-productive but enjoyable way? It's a gift.

As an adult my success at this is somewhat limited. Mostly life passes as a series of tasks, achievements, deadlines, crossed-off lists and more or less productive pastimes. Only at odd moments, weekends and holidays does it take a more frivolous turn and life can be enjoyed simply for itself with no particular end in view. These moments are wonderful - why on earth don't we do them more often?! Children really have the right idea before we grown-ups complicate up their lives. But life is busy and opportunities are limited.

On holiday recently I experienced once more something that only happens to me when I have time - time with no agendas, no necessary programme of things to do. I love to walk, enjoying the scenery and wildlife as I go. I love the countryside and I love coastal walks. I also love (and need!) to sit. For me the two go hand in hand and there is nothing better than walking till I am tired out and then flopping onto a well-positioned bench, donated in memory of someone who enjoyed the place, on a remote hillside with a view stretching out beneath me or beside a glorious stretch of coastline with the dark blue sea shimmering in front of me - just stopping there and drinking it all in. After a while, when I have got my breath back and looked all around me in wonder at the views, there often comes a moment when I think 'I'll get up now. It's time to get on...'

But I don't. I've learned now. I just sit there. I look at the view again. I focus on a clump of trees and admire the variety of colours. I shut my eyes and feel the warmth of the sun on my back and the breeze blowing in my face. I watch a lamb feeding from its mother, buffeting her mercilessly and drinking its fill in the self-absorbed, greedy way of the young. I gaze out to sea and spot a tiny yacht on the horizon. And then it happens - I knew it would. I get that feeling: 'I could stay here forever!' I've found my rest, my inner peace, as well as the rest my body needed. 'I could stay here forever!'

As Mr. Davies said:

'A poor life this is if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare'.

* Leisure by William Henry Davies