I find comfort in doing things. I am uncomfortable when I am not doing something; I feel discomfort. Where did that come from? Why am I made this way?
I find joy and purpose and reason when I am working. I get lost in the work, and time is full, and engagement is not sought but experienced. Put me on a beach in the sun and tell me to sit and relax for the day and I will become the opposite; I will become agitated and restless, the purposelessness like little worms in my stomach, wriggling without relief. Am I strange? It’s a good thing I love to swim. Put me on the beach and say sit and relax and I will swim for hours, exploring, playing, engaging with the waves, floating, in short, DOING.
This is why I am learning so much about myself while I’m in Kenya. I am forced to create a new balance. At home, in my job and life and work, I am never without a list of things to do, to accomplish. My goals are big, my life is big, my engagement with others is big. Our big old house is always asking me to do things. Here, as a first month guest, I have shallower roots, I have a life, but it is all different. Today I walked around and picked up trash in front of the house on my dead end street, dropped by the garbage men, and I dead-headed huge geranium plants. No one made me. I wanted to. I LIKE DOING.
Clearly, I feel guilty for loving to do things, as many in the world look askance at people like me. What is his problem? Rather than napping, or laying around, I will clean. I like to vacuum. Cleaning is fun and purposeful and it has a beginning and a middle and an end. I get engaged, doing this, doing that, new goals arising, unseen tasks interrupting first tasks to create additional tasks, and I feel alive.
I don’t try to be this way. I am. If you need something done, just give a shout. I’m all yours. What can I do for you?