I am sitting in my kitchen, just taking in my surroundings. It is a cold, clear winter’s evening, and the old house creaks comfortably with the sounds of age. Somewhere not so far off I hear the click and churn of the furnace, and the soft rattling of the pipes as fresh hot water courses through the walls. The kitchen is clean and neat, and the dinner dishes all washed and set to dry. A familiar scent of cinnamon and apple waft lightly from the candle I placed on the counter. All is calm.

I am nourished, with no hunger or thirst. I am well clothed, and the roof over my head has stood for over 135 years. My health is good for a man of my age; at the moment nothing aches, pains, throbs or pierces. I can find nothing to keep me from a feeling of contentment. For right now, for this minute at least, I have no immediate problems that require my absolute focus and attention.

I am grateful, very grateful. I also am struggling with the threat of uneasiness. Having nothing pressing means that I have free time, and I feel an intense pressure that the time must not be wasted. I must do something.

Since I was a young boy, there was always something that needed to be done. In a large Irish family filled with boys there was always something to be fixed, some job to do, some skill to master or goal to acheive. I had started working with my brothers at the age of 8 on their paper routes, and by 12 was delivering papers, cutting grass, babysitting and doing all sorts of odd jobs. We were required to be at the top of our classes academically by our parents, and required to be competent athletes by each other in whatever sport we tried. Failure was not even considered, you simply worked at something until you got it.

Ivy league school in two and a half years, law school, and a masters program while working full time. Sleeping a single hour every night and crashing every other weekend was not unusual or special, it was just what one did to fit everything in. Jumped into marriage right after receiving my final degree, and became a husband and active father to a growing horde. After three years of 80 hour work weeks, I decided to start my own businesses, and quickly learned that 80 hours was not enough. I refused to take time away from my family, however, or at least tried my best.

Coaching, working with the schools, playing with my children, handling finances, doing laundry, shopping for groceries, handling childhood problems, teaching responsibility, worrying, fearing, crying…having a family meant always having something to do. The years flew by as holidays, sports, vacations, family parties, joy, laughter and thanksgiving blended  with times of sickness, grief, pain and sorrow to create that special unity of love and togetherness.

Whenever there was free time, it was off to work and dealing with the issues of an entrepreneur. What I lacked in business savvy I tried to make up with sheer effort; a growing family of bright gifted children required a lot of resources. There never was time to rest, as a sense of urgency existed. There also was a feeling, never challenged as false, that once you stopped all the bad things would catch up to you.

Now the family has grown, and the children are gone. The family pets have passed away, so there is only silence where there once lived mayhem. Some might call it peace. My wife is away, finally pursuing dreams long delayed by maternal responsibility. I am happy for her, and for my children; they are all well. I am grateful and filled with gratitude.

However, there is now nothing to do. My mind screams at me with activities that will serve to fill the void, such as watching television, having some drinks  or playing a video game. But, I am acutely aware that my time on this sphere is limited, and those activities will be a waste of time. They accomplish nothing, not even peace. Once completed, I will be back where I am right now, exactly the same but with less time on my hand.

Tomorrow I will go to work, and address the needs of my clients who have come to trust me. I will also work out and eat right, so I can preserve the body given to me. I may also look to find a venue to provide service to others, to exercise the compassion that I feel and contribute to the world. That will calm my uneasiness.

But for now, I am going to sit, and do nothing, and let the silence surround me. I am going to breathe and try to connect with that force that is greater than me, and let myself go where that force takes me. It may grow into a meditation, or prayer, or some form of inspiration-or it may not change at all. That is for later, I think. For right now, I will sit and do nothing.

And it may be the hardest thing I have ever done.