How often do you do nothing? No agenda, no expectations, just nothing. I used to do nothing all the time when I was a kid—staring out the window, sitting on the front steps, whining to my mum, “I’m bored!”
Once boredom got boring I was a kid full of ideas and a willingness to try things. I’d build furniture for my doll, read books, invent convoluted games, dance in the living room, tramp through the ravine, hit a tennis ball against a wall, and generally get up to something. One summer I spent days figuring out where to build a cave and what supplies I’d need to live in it.
I think the preliminary boredom was essential. In that unscheduled time I was in touch with how I felt, what I cared about, and my attitude was open and willing. I had no idea what I was supposed to do, so I just made stuff up. Doing nothing was the cradle of creativity.
The cult of busyness
Culturally, we value busyness. It’s all very Calvinist, work ethic, nose to the grindstone. “Oh, I’m so busy!” How often have I heard people, including me, utter that phrase in response to a friend’s enquiry? It’s like a badge of honour, a way of saying “I’m important” or “I’m needed.”
The worst is the competitive busyness conversation. You know the one where you say all the things you’re doing—and then I top it with my even longer, more impressive list? It’s a bizarre way to interact with people.
If you do creative work—and really, I think anyone who solves problems is doing creative work—there’s not much that gets things flowing along like a bit of boredom, a chunk of time with no agenda. How often have you come up with a brilliant solution while brushing your teeth or out for a stroll? There’s something about leaving everything behind that supports creativity.
Finding time for nothing
How to build a bit of nothing into my day? It isn’t easy. The forces of busyness are pervasive and hard to resist. Once we’re in motion it’s very difficult to stop. Watching Netflix while lounging on the couch doesn’t count!
I work from home and my husband’s kids are grown up, so reserving a chunk of time is easier for me than many people. It’s still hard. I have endless, often unrealistic lists of things to do—for my business, for my artistic work, then there’s the domestic front, physical fitness, etc. I’m full of ideas, ambitions, and big expectations.
Recently, as the pandemic lockdown moved into its second or third month, I found myself back in that child-like state of doing nothing. I was out of work (temporarily, thankfully) and I had a lot of time on my hands. I painted and I hiked, but I also just sat there and stared at rocks or the sky. It was delicious—like re-discovering a favourite food or reuniting with an old friend.
Since the summer ended life keeps getting busier. I’ve got more Zoom meetings, more work, more to do. I can feel the acceleration in the air. But I can also feel my resistance and a big wish to keep time for nothing in my life.
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