Nowadays more and more people are trapped in too busy work to relax themselves. We have no time to tell a bed-time story to our children, or enjoy a nice dinner with our family, or take a break to think about how we live the precious life, or even meet friends. All we notice is that the distinctions that used to guide and steady us --between Sunday and Monday, public and private, here and there--are gone. We have more ways to communicate, but less and less to say. Partly because we're so busy communicating. Maybe that's why more and more people I know, even if they have no religious belief, seem to be turning to yoga, or meditation, or tai chi. Some friends of mine try to go on long walks every Sunday, or to "forget" their cell phones at home. A series of tests in recent years has shown that their brains become both calmer and sharper after spending time in quiet rural settings. In my own case, I often turn to extreme measures to try to keep my sanity and ensure that I have time to do nothing at all. I've not yet used a cell phone and I've never Tweeted or entered Face book. I try not to go online till my day's writing is finished, and I moved from Manhattan to rural Japan. None of this is a matter of principle or asceticism  : it's just pure selfishness. Nothing makes me feel better-----calmer, clearer and happier----than being in one place, absorbed in a book, a conversation, a piece of music. It's actually something deeper than mere happiness: it's joy, which David Steindl-Rast describes as "that kind of happiness that doesn't depend on what happens." That is the highest of the highest we have been longing for--The Joy of Quiet. The writer sometimes doesn't do anything because   _  .
he is out of work whatever he does makes no sense he can enjoy himself in his leisure time he is worried about his writing