While others list as their accomplishments: doing things, going places, etc., I love sitting. I indulge from time to time in this activity -- or rather, inactivity -- in various rooms of my house.

Sitting , in order for it to be joyful, must never coincide with the act of waiting , as in waiting for something to happen, or waiting for someone to arrive, waiting for an appointment. While waiting, one is merely tolerating sitting and not really enjoying the very process itself.

Sitting must be an end in itself (pun not intended).

Creative sitting must engage one's full thinking and feeling processes. Try, for example, sitting in different chairs of your home. We give such names to the rooms of our houses as "living room" or "sitting room" -- and yet, how much real sitting goes on in a sitting room?

We use the rooms of our homes like hallways to go from one activity to the next: More accurate names would be "dusting room" or "vacuuming room."

Therefore, my suggestion: Spend at least one hour a week sitting in a normally unused chair in an infrequently used room. Luxuriate. Take in the four walls, absorb the squiggly lines and designs and colors of your wallpaper; pick up and touch an object d'art bought on a recent trip. . .

We pass through this life all too swiftly. We spend weeks and months -- nay, years and decades -- earning money to pay the mortgage on our house, or the rent. But we are taking in the landscape of our day-to-day lives?

I discovered all this because once at a party in my home, I found myself in a chair I seldom sat in. For a minute, I felt I was somewhere else, with a completely different perspective of my living and dining room. How many other outlooks, I mused, am I denying myself because I have never sat in a particular chair?

This got me into the art of sitting down on the job, so to speak. Now while I'm vacuuming or dusting I refuse to rush mindlessly and disdainfully through the job. I take it all in and sit a spell. . .

I could go on and on . . . but it's been ages since I sat in the orange director's chair in the far corner of my den.