About Nothing and Writing

Overlooking Kalihiwai Beach PHOTO BY COCO

A couple of weeks on the island and I am ready to stay here forever. What does one do on a small island in middle of the Pacific Ocean, the farthest archipelago from land on Earth? 

Nothing.

I've always been pretty good at doing nothing, which in reality is doing lots of things that are frowned upon in more conventional settings.

Regardless of where you go you remain leashed to the greater world and its vicissitudes by electronic media. But when you're surrounded by the largest ocean on the planet, your focus narrows. You smell the flowers, hear the birds sing, point your eyes at the turquoise-colored water or shift your view toward the remarkably verdant mountains that form a magical back-drop to daily living.

I know these simple things make many people nervous. I get it. We're programmed for accomplishment. 

During my first week on the island I swept the lanai several times, cleaned the barbecue grill, took out the trash, drove to the store, hiked to the beach, attended a going-away party, played ukulele and sang, joked around with the grandkids, discussed life with my daughter, watched Stephen Curry and the Warriors on TV, ate sushi, visited Hanalei, swam in the bay, surfed in the bay, attended a zoom meeting, partook in a yoga class and joined a Tai Chi group moving slowly and purposefully through space.

I become exhausted just thinking about all the nothings I've accomplished. In the end what do I have to show for it: nothing. But I've enjoyed every moment.

Today I paid some bills using my iPhone. I mean, is that anything to talk about? It's nothing.

PHOTO BY KCS

When I was in high school I returned to school following summer vacation and Coach Pete Lopez asked me, "Sam, what did you do during the summer?"

"Nothing," I told him, figuring he would get it.

"Nothing!" he exclaimed, practically biting off my head. "Don't tell me you did nothing!"

He was achievement-oriented. Despite that, he was one of the few coaches I got along with.

I guess I could have told him that I went swimming at my girlfriend's house. We made out. I rode my bike. I played a little baseball. And a little ping pong.

I can imagine his answer, "That's all!?"

It was the summer after my freshman year and the final summer of my life that I didn't work. That is, until I retired after more than 60 years of working. Since then I've done nothing.

I've traveled, visited friends, gone to museums, walked my dog, surfed and jotted down a a bunch of words, sketched a few things, drank coffee and beer. Enjoyed a martini on Friday evening, watched the sun set and the sun rise. Checked out the full moon. Looked up the definition of words I didn't know. Read a few good books.

I've heard from reliable sources that meditation is one of the best things you can do for you mental and physical health. It's supposed to be calming, enabling you to center yourself so that you can be in the present moment. 

Recently, while walking along amidst an extravaganza of island floral delights with nothing more to think about than placing one foot in front of the other, suddenly, I encountered a moment when everything became clear to me. I was able to solve a problem that had been bugging me for weeks.

It was a writing problem. I had been working on a chapter of my life and a particular circumstance arose that I wanted to avoid writing about.  As a memoirist, the writer chooses what to tell about their life. Do you tell the embarrassing stuff? The things you're not so proud of? Do you only write about your accomplishments?

It became clear to me that I must write about this incident I was avoiding, if only to discover why.

It's about a trip to Hawaii during which I never touched the ocean or beach, didn't ride a single wave. I was so focussed on my future I could have been anywhere. Still, I must have learned something. What happened? What did I see? What did I hear? Who did I talk to? Who talked to me?

I can put these elements into words and create something that I didn’t know existed. Through writing I can solve a mystery out of nothing.