The Art of Hanging Out

Having the time.
Taking the time.
Time to read the paper or a book.
Time to talk with a friend.
Preferably while sitting in a coffee house late into the morning. Or at a table on the sidewalk where others, in their hurrying, will see you and perhaps wistfully wonder when they will have time.

I have been among the wistful -- wondering, wishing, imagining that I could be reading a novel on the shady side of the sidewalk late into the morning, no other needs pressing in. Then maybe a friend shows up and we have a long conversation about the novel, or about love, or even the price of gasoline.

But my days have been full of errands and chores and little tasks I've set for myself, seemingly urgent stuff that takes priority over activities that smack of vacationing. Oh, yes, I take a furtive moment now and then to browse through a magazine or chat with someone. But where is the time for serious, intentional hanging out? I see others doing it all the time -- or at least I think they're doing it. They don't look as though they have anything more important to do, anywhere else to be. From my perspective they're suspended in a tableau of socio-intellectual titillation, poised between fellowship and solitude, doing and being, pleasure and fulfillment.

I decide this hanging out thing must be an art. I'll give it a try. Maybe I can develop my skill. So I stick a science-fiction novel in my fanny pack and hop on my bike. I plan to ride around town a bit, and then maybe stop at the Beanery or some other coffee shop with sidewalk seating and just read for a while, pretending there's no time like the present.

But once I get on my bike, my mindset shifts. I don't want to stop. This is a good time for zooming around on two wheels. My legs are loving this! Why would I want to stop and buy expensive tea that's not as good as the tea I have at home and sit in an uncomfortable metal chair and try to read with cars and other people shuffling about? Better to read in the cool peace and quiet of home, sitting on my comfortable couch with my favorite beverage at hand.

But then where is the fellowship, the cozy feeling of being among others enjoying the same activity? And isn't the surrounding hustle and bustle an essential ingredient in the process of throwing such timeless moments into relief?

Okay, so I don't quite have the hang of this public hanging out thing. I'll work on it.