Have and do many things. Be active. Be very productive…
The other day I was with a person who told me that she didn’t know how to be doing nothing. That if she didn’t do many things and everything she set out to do, her day had not been productive, and, therefore, it had not been a good day.
She told me how she was frustrated by not achieving everything and how this made her feel bad about herself.
The conversation was long and the topic has a lot to offer because it is difficult not to get stuck with the vision of society and the ways of culture in which we live and, it is a fact, that we are immersed in the society of having and doing.
Do things, lots of them, and all the time, because otherwise you are an unproductive person, and it seems that you are worthless.
In the case of this person, it was necessary to start from whether her goals were realistic because it is a fact that quite often we set goals for the day that lack that quality and the result is frustration for not reaching them.
But as a result of this conversation, I was approached with other deeper, more essential questions located at a higher level: What does it mean for you to be a productive person? Productive in what? In doing or in being? What type of profitability am I looking for in my life?
In the dialogue we engaged in, we moved within the parameters of productivity and profitability of doing, which is what the world imposes on us, but is it what I want for my life? What do I worry about every morning when I get out of bed? And what do I want to work on?
Because, on the one hand, there is productivity based on worldly criteria. The one that tells you that you have to do and achieve many things. That which is set on objectives that are in most cases quantifiable and measurable with the senses. Successes, rewards, promotions, money…
It is the productivity of running all day to achieve many things. The profitability contained in an Excel where income and expenses are reflected, that on too many occasions we let them measure our worth or that of others. Live under the logic of the world: more income, more accumulation and fewer expenses to earn more and more.
And, on the other hand, there is the productivity of love. The one in which profitability is measured by the amount of life you give each day to others. The one in which the ROI are fruits that many times you can’t even see, but that you trust they are there, and in which the conversion rate only shows the small things done with love in your day.
A profitability in which the logic is the more you give, the more you have. The more you spend, the more you earn.
And I realized that I want to live and live in this second. I don’t want my desire to be in having and doing things. I want to be rich in love and dedication. Be very productive in hugs and “I love you”. Being an activist of the heart and being able to stop doing many things to allow myself to be more.
Let me be vulnerable. Let me be fragile. Let myself reflect in a mirror without fear of my limitations, which are many. Taking off my masks even at the risk of being hurt.
Living with a purpose, that of making my life profitable by spending it. That of producing many fruits, but those that have no place in a bank account. Where in my Excel, expenses and income are not subtracted, but rather multiplied. Because the more you spend, the more you earn. Where only the smiles given and received are noted, the silences given to others to leave them space. Words of true affection and acts of service without expecting anything in return.
Where my day is not measured based on the quantity of things I do, but on the quality of them. A quality based on the love given and the freedom to be. Being small and at the same time immense. Being limited and at the same time of incalculable value. Be vulnerable and deeply loved.
Where my daily desire is to do small acts with a lot of love. Acts that are often heroic, but not historical, with the purpose of defeating evil with good. Acts probably invisible in the light of the eyes of the body, but deeply valuable, seen with the eyes of the heart.
Because, as the Little Prince said, what is essential is invisible to the eyes.
Days full of looks and not glimpses. Days full of meaning and purpose, even without understanding. Days with cross and suffering, but full of love and hope, of heaven.
Days in which the premise of my life is to give yourself until you spend yourself to live under the KPIs of profitability invisible in the eyes of the world, of this world.
