The Emptiness of Busyness

Stress is a publicly acceptable word for living imprisoned by desire and fear. Stress is the desire to get things done, and the fear of not getting them done.

In our over-productive society, we have become rather proud of how many labour- and time-saving gadgets we have. Our homes have become filled with them. Technology makes us more efficient and sophisticated in the way we move from one place to another, and the way we communicate. Yet we have no time for any real communication, person to person, face to face.

We don't want people knocking on our front door without a prior appointment. So they telephone and get a disembodied voice, which says 'Thank you for your call. Please leave a brief message after the signal.' We relate to our world and each other in all manner of time-saving ways. But the rather harsh reality is that we have even less time on our hands and we are busier than ever before. Despite our time-saving gadgets, we never have a moment to spare for each other. Friends and loved ones often overstay their welcome.

The busyness of going from one thing to another without a break is an incredibly strong pattern. It fills our existence, so we have produced a convenient and comfortable word to describe it. We call it stress. We have created a huge consumer industry to deal with stress. We go to the gymnasium to work off our stress. We produce a whole range of clothing for various stress-reducing activities. We buy books on stress. We pay expensive psychotherapists to help us deal with stress in our day-to-day life. We go overseas for a holiday. We go to terribly expensive workshops. We go on retreats.

Temporary relief from stress is not a release from stress. We live in a world full of self-deception, believing we will be better off if we increase our workload. We become more productive, yet we don't become happier or wiser as a result. The extraordinary thing about our busyness is that we like to boast about it: 'I'm terribly busy at the moment. I've got so much to do.' There's a certain pride in it: 'I've got such a busy life. The phone never stops ringing.' We have countless letters to write, appointments to keep, places to go. It gives us the feeling that we're important.

We have become so used to this way of life that we hardly have time or energy for anything else. We come home in the evening and turn the television on. We remain glued to the box throughout the entire course of the evening. We barely have enough energy to turn the television off, but have the arrogance to call this 'living in the real world.' If we really realised our plight, then we would find ways to transform our circumstances.

We lie down at night, but our mind is like an old car engine. After a long drive in an old car on a hot day, the motor will often keep going even after pulling out the ignition key. Sometimes our mind is like that at the end of the day, though we certainly want to turn it off so we can sleep. The customary glass of wine is not doing the job for us, so when we lie down, the engine of the mind still turns over and over. We might ask ourselves in the middle of the night, 'Is this what my life is—stress, busyness, hurrying, going from one thing to another?' Stress has become our way of being, our normal lifestyle, and we don't want to admit that we are neurotic and out of touch with the real world. It is a publicly acceptable word for living imprisoned by desire and fear. Stress is the desire to get things done, and the fear of not getting them done. It runs through our psyche. We say, 'I've got so much to do. If I don't get it done, perhaps I'll lose the job or the contract. They want me to finish this job by a certain date. I only have so much time and I'm not sure if I'll get the job finished. I never have enough time.'

Part of the motivation driving us into this fragmented way of living includes feeling we will achieve something. It is the result that matters. Is it? The result—the effect of what we do—becomes another cause for activity. We have no time to experience the fruits of our efforts. No sooner has one task finished than we are on to the next. Success is the spark for the next objective. We say to ourselves, 'As soon as I finish this job, I'm going to have some breathing space. I'm going to take it easy. There's going to be some sanity in my life.' Not much hope of that.

Stress has a momentum to it, and making promises to ourselves about the future springs from stress, not wisdom. We are running around in circles, not getting anywhere. And running around in circles won't make our mind wise either. No sooner do we complete one activity than we start up another. We take a few days' holiday and come back full of good intentions, but the momentum starts all over again. There is internal and external pressure to succeed.

What has to happen to make you change? There is a little bit of you that says you must change but the rest of you takes no notice. Are you willing to explore your potential for a stress-free and genuinely contented existence while going about your daily tasks? Or are you going to wait until you have a nervous breakdown, a health crisis, a marriage on the rocks, or simply feelings of despair? Are you determined to carry on as before despite the endless feedback that you are driven, workaholic or obsessed? Or are you going to start today with one basic change? If so, what is it going to be?