The problem with nothing is that at the end of the day, you have very little to show for yourself. You can't make a list of nothing, and check each item off as you don't do it. The feedback is minimal, and the finish line distant. So, how do you know that you are effectively doing nothing?
I expend considerable effort hauling my little family out into the wilderness. In the hope that, something good and wholesome will, by chance or proximity, rub off on them. That there is a life lesson seeping in, along with the grass stains and dirty feet. Some small sign that all this effort is worth it. Lately, I have been second-guessing the propriety of it all. Am I being selfish? Hadn't I better just stay in the city? Hadn't we better just send the kids to camp for proven, structured enrichment? I am torn between following my inner voice, and shuffling along with the crowd. With this maternal doubt rattling around in my jumbled-up head, I catch something skipping along the floor from the corner of my eye. A tiny ball of dirty clay, with a tiny trail of mud behind. "Mommy, did you know you can make a ball out of mud?" A tiny ball of mud that required an enormous amount of dirt, and hose water, and the space and time for nothing, to discover.