Where does the urge to “accomplish” come from?

When we talk with one another, we might say “so, what did you do today?” We don’t ask what the other person thought about or what they felt. Only what they “did.” And we catalog for each other our activities: I did 3 loads of wash today. I shoveled the snow off the driveway. But never – unless we are Steven Hawking – do we say “I contemplated the origin of the universe.”

Children do actually think about things. A young child once asked me “Do God and Santa Claus talk to each other?” What a wonderful and profound question. I scrambled for an answer: “Well, I guess they both keep track of whether you’re being good or not, so I suppose they compare notes…” And that satisfied the young questioner.

A friend reported to me that her grandson asked his mother “Who’s in charge? Are you in charge or is God in charge?” The quick-thinking mother said “God’s in charge of some things and I’m in charge of others.” To which the child responded – clearly showing where his priorities of the moment were “Well, who’s in charge of the Halloween candy?”

But at some point, we stop just “thinking” and start “doing.” Why? Why do we feel guilty if we sit and think. Or sit and ponder. It’s sort of ok to contemplate nature. It’s ok to watch a sunset or sit at the beach – sort of. But other places require that we be “doing something.” Sitting on a boat enjoying the rocking of the waves isn’t enough. We have to fish. (We don’t really have to catch anything, just holding the pole qualifies as “doing something.”)

We can’t just sit in the woods enjoying nature. We have to hold a gun (or a camera) and “hunt.” Doesn’t matter if we don’t come home with a trophy animal or picture of one. But this way if someone asks what we did, we can say I spent the day in the woods waiting for a shot.

We feel guilty if we sit in front of the computer playing computer games, so we make excuses: playing fast-moving games improves our ability to make decisions quickly; it exercises our brains so we will retain effective brain function longer. Why can’t we just say “I enjoy it?”

I remember my grandmother at 95 bemoaning the fact that she couldn’t play pinochle any more because “the girls” were all sick or dead. “But, Gram, you go to the senior center every day. Surely you can find 2 or 3 people there who will play with you?” She drew herself up to all 4-foot 11 inches, and said “Oh, no! We work!” (She was part of the quilting group and the crocheting group.) I looked at her in amazement and said “Gram, you’re 95. If you can’t take an hour or so out a day to play pinochle now, when will you?” That seemed to do the trick and she started playing regularly and in fact, won a city-wide pinochle tournament of senior centers at 100!

But clearly the need to accomplish was strongly in-grained! Why? Why do we need permission to relax and just be? or just think?

Is it an American trait? Do other nationalities just sit? Is it a “Protestant work ethic” issue? Or is it, in fact, just me? What about you? Do you “just think?” Or do you have to “do” all the time, too?