Earlier this week, on the Monday bank holiday, we slowed down.

We took Darla on a forest trail, somewhere she could roam freely, off lead, and follow her nose.

While we walked, I delighted in the sunshine that warmed my skin and the spring air that filled my lungs. 

It was then I saw it, my first lone bumblebee of the year, moving deliberately, doing what bees do.

The bee had the whole field to itself, and I wondered does it know the size of the field? Does it feel left behind? Does it believe the only way through is to stay busy?

I know sometimes we do.

We fill calendars until they look convincing, have long to-do lists that echo our importance and move quickly, mistaking motion for progress.

But is being busy always useful?  Sometimes I think it is a well-disguised trap that is easy to fall into.

What if we asked, “Is anything actually moving in the direction I want?”

There’s a soft and familiar feeling in reaching for the next obvious task. It gives us the illusion of control.

But maybe that instinct is not wisdom. 

Standing there, watching that bee, I had a different thought:

Maybe useful work doesn’t mean doing everything. Maybe like the bee, it just means doing the right thing, in the space you’re already in.

The field is already big enough.