Photo credit: Vivianne Arnold

Pink clouds surround three of Archer’s palm trees at sunset. Most days as I walk to the bus, I am busy thinking about upcoming assignments. On the few days I choose to look up and admire the world around me, I am reminded of its beauty. This picture was the unexpected product of one such day.

So often, we are — as the kids say — “on the grind.” The homework, meetings and chores pile up in our minds even more than in our planners and notion to-do lists. We are restless and anxious about all the things we need to get done. Even when we have finished all our tasks, we are left with the lingering feeling that we cannot just rest — we need to be doing something.

Here is my unprofessional diagnosis: We need to do more nothing.

I know it sounds counterintuitive; you can “do nothing” as much as you can listen to the quiet. Both of these things are possible, though, and lately, I’ve been trying to do them as much as I can. And by “nothing,” I don’t mean “more of the things we love.” Calling our friends, reading, playing sports and any other activities we enjoy are wonderful things to do — but those are all still something. Those all require our brains to work and process information. What we really need is more time to lie on the ground — inside or outside — and stare directly upwards, doing our best to think about nothing.

Maybe you do not quite trust me. So let me prove it to you. Do you trust the poets? They spend quite a bit of time thinking about the best way to be, and one of the best, our dear Mary Oliver, came to the conclusion in dozens of her poems that some of the greatest joys in life come in the form of just being present and aware of the world around you. In her poem “The Invitation,” a particular favorite of mine, she describes a singing huddle of goldfinches and asks the reader not to walk past and ignore it. She tells us that “It could mean something. It could mean everything.” (See also: her poem “The Sun.”) 

Or maybe you’ll trust the authors (more official in appearance if not in practice, than poets). Remember all of those dystopias you’ve read? Remember how “Fahrenheit 451“’s Faber, the old voice of reason, reminds us that leisure — “time to think” — is essential to our ability to understand the world and our place in it. Remember how “Fahrenheit 451″’s main character Montag thought that “the river was very real; it held him comfortably and gave him the time at last, the leisure, to consider this month, this year, and a lifetime of years.” You do not always have to be swimming; sometimes it’s good just to float. 

You do not trust the writers, either? Then trust the scientists: Cleveland Clinic published a report in 2020 (which I highly recommend reading) affirming the idea that human brains are like sponges — you can’t constantly pour information on them and expect them to keep soaking it up. The report assuredly states that “downtime is important for your brain health” and urges readers when resting to “pick something that doesn’t require your brain to do much work. Then, let it meander.” A similar article published by Princeton Health in 2021 agrees that “allowing your mind to slow down, and stopping the constant assault of information and demands, let’s you reconnect with yourself and the world around you.”

I spent a lot of time sitting quietly in my backyard this summer, and the longer and more often I did it, the more I loved it. Animals would forget I was there and scamper or flutter around me unafraid. The sounds of the leaves rustling against each other or different types of insects buzzing became less like background noise and more like the surface of the world. And so I started thinking about all the people who have come before us who saw all these things, too, how they lived their lives, and how I want to live mine. Remarkably, when I gave myself more time to float, I knew more clearly where I wanted to go. 

Maybe you have noticed a trend here: not only is doing nothing a lovely way to bear witness to the world, but it is also wonderful for your health. The key isn’t maximizing or exchanging your time; spending more time outside and giving yourself more breaks from a constant state of go-go-go will not erase your upcoming math quiz or fix the fight you got into with your friend. But what it will do is help you feel more grounded in yourself when you go about doing all you need and want to do.

I know you are busy — I am too. All I hope is that every once in a while, you take a moment to stop, look around and remind yourself you are alive.