One morning, during the first week of June, I decided to go to a matinee of a movie a friend recommended.

I had nothing to do that day and love to take advantage of early bird discounts.

Believing I was running late, I pulled into the parking structure attached to the cineplex and a handful of upscale stores and begged the twenty-something manning the popcorn concession to handle the purchase.

He tried to direct me to use the automated kiosk, but eventually, he handled the transaction. I also learned that the first show began at 1:30, not at 11:45 as I had thought.

Because it wasn’t worth moving my car and there was nothing playing at the eleven other screens that I wanted to see, I bought an iced tea and staked out a turquoise wooden beach chair in the landscaped, open-air, portion of the urban mall.

I stewed for a few minutes. The day was not going as planned. I’d have to pay for parking, I would have to travel home when traffic would be heavier. I had to keep from going postal with the theater manager who didn’t want to take my credit card.

I was forced to sit in a beach chair, on a pleasant afternoon, when the mall was not crowded — and DO NOTHING.

Not so bad, huh?

I thought about the old adage, “Don’t just sit there. Do something,”

This was a case where the opposite was true, yet, I resisted.

I was being called to “Just sit there.”  I had to overcome my petty disappointments and resentments and ENJOY being outside, sipping a cool drink and people watch.

It took a while just to get over being okay with things not going as I had planned.

I guess it was Eckhart Tolle who said “Complete acceptance is the doorway to transformation.”

I had to accept reality before I could enjoy my experience; the sunshine, the cool feeling of the plastic cup that held my iced tea, the incidental exchanges I had with people who spent a few minutes of their lunch hour on nearby chairs.

A couple weeks after my unintentionally long matinee, I tripped on a crack in the cement near my home and fractured a bone in my right arm, near my shoulder. My arm was in a sling for weeks. I had to make arrangements to have my dog walked, to get help to shop. I had to take Uber more than liked.

Showering was difficult. Driving was out of the question. I had to ask friends and neighbors to open cans and chop vegetables for me.  Although the injury was to my upper arm, use of my right hand was affected.  Even swiping and using my smart phone and laptop presented challenges.  I didn’t feel like writing.

Most of my summer was about “just sitting there.”  And I had to learn acceptance in a different way.

Of course, I made promises to myself to be more mindful about how I walked, but I considered that the experience led to an understanding I could not learn another way. The lesson was not about acceptance of an event I could not control.

I needed to accept myself and my circumstances, whatever they might be. My sense of self-worth needed to be above judgments and comparisons. It’s been hard. Most people are constantly engaged with metrics and comparisons. It’s hard not to think about your activity or inactivity as being who you are.

Generally, staying in action is good. Taking action leads to more experiences which leads to more conscious choices. However, action, just for the sake of keeping busy is about “proving” one’s worth, not always a recipe for accomplishing one’s heart’s desire.

Living through the pandemic, gave many of us the opportunity to zero in on this. I think some of us were more than eager to return to pre-pandemic perspectives and keeping busy. I understand family obligations and finances can limit options, but..

Going through periods of really “just sitting there” to experience radical self-acceptance is no small thing.