A children's poem from the last century tells of an old sailor left to fend for himself on a desert island

... who had so many things that he wanted to do
That whenever he thought it was time to begin,
He couldn't, because of the state he was in.

His state of worry, that is. He needs a place to live, a boat, some clothes, some animals (to live on), fishing gear, water ... but he cannot determine what to do first. Eventually, he just gives up:

So he thought of his hut.and he thought of his boat,
And his hat and his breeks, and his chickens and goat,
And the hooks (for his food) and the spring (for his thirst).
But he never could think which he ought to do first.

And so in the end he did nothing at all,
But basked on the shingle wrapped up in a shawl.
And I think it was dreadful the way he behaved --
He did nothing but basking until he was saved!

Like most of us, the author thinks that this life without ambition or goals is a disgrace. Or is it? Is the message of Steps 10, 11 and 12 perhaps that we too should stop worrying about all the things we should do first, and simply be?