It’s time to redefine doing nothing

This afternoon we really did nothing. Nothing achieved or produced. No goals reached and nothing ticked off a list. Nothing that would seemingly help any of us climb any ladder, corporate, educational or otherwise. We didn’t even leave the house. 

We drank hot chocolate and shared some bad jokes. Over the next few hours, (and in varying combinations of the four of us – their dad was out) we watched an episode of a Spanish series we’ve got on the go right now, stumbled through some Ukrainian folk songs on YouTube and attempted to sing along to a song in Welsh. E treated us to a word-perfect rendition of an Argentine tango and we pondered the etymology of various words. A piece of crochet was picked up and put down in frustration. A guitar was picked up and strummed for a while. Someone downloaded an app to learn to read music. 

Between these various non-events, I was reading a book on Nonviolent Communication and, knowing that it might not land quite as I intended, I shared something from it nonetheless. “Sounds like a motivational quote,” said one. “Hippy,” sighed another, which is fine by me.

At one point, an interesting conversation in the kitchen about politics started to get heated. Finally one person asked the other if they were angry, to which the other replied, “No”, and offered an olive branch in the form of a cup of tea. I was touched by their capacity to recognise that their relationship was way more important than who was right or wrong. Ironically, if the main players in the very situation they were discussing could do the same, the world would be a safer place. Nonviolent communication in action, though I didn’t dare point that out.

C showed me a presentation she’s been making in Canva about her favourite dog breed. She is a bit fed up with her dad and I not taking enough interest in this potential future dog. She has noticed that when she talks about it, we both look a bit disengaged. She’s right. We have conflicting emotions around this as we can’t give her a definite date when this future dog can come into our lives. So, she has decided to make this presentation, not to persuade us, but so we have a fun way to learn about this dog breed. Genius.

What else? There was a moment of boredom, followed by a snuggle on the sofa. That led to a conversation around how I would feel about C taking the short bus trip by herself to the small city nearby, buying something she wanted from one particular shop near the bus stop then coming back. I wasn’t sure how I felt. Did I trust her? Yes. Then what was my issue? I wasn’t sure, but perhaps with lots of phone contact it could work. She told me that actually she wasn’t sure she really wanted to but that it was good to talk it through just in case.

We wondered what we might grow on our new allotment. We talked about why some countries are motherlands and some are fatherlands. One person is realising that their growing social life is draining their bank account and would like to look for some weekend work. We talked about the kind of job he could do, and whether he needed it to feel interesting or if he didn’t mind, so long as he was earning. How far is he willing to compromise?

We texted a neighbour to see if we can walk her puppy. We had a few moments of frustration when one person was concentrating while another was singing. We drank several cups of tea. We talked about maths and how it has gained such a fearful reputation. We talked about my sons’ travel plans and where they would like to go this summer. We looked at some items on Vinted, followed by some mental arithmetics around pocket money. We talked about homelessness, an interesting ancestor and our favourite comedians. We talked about Che Guevara. One person had a short nap as they had stayed up late watching a documentary. Another wrote out the ingredients for a cake they want to make. We celebrated one of them finally sending an email they’d been putting off for a while. We laughed about one of our cats, who is always on the wrong side of the door.

These afternoons are a treat to me. Now that my sons are older and both are engaged in studies, friendships and interests, we are rarely all together in this way for several hours at a time. So, this might just look like some normal downtime, some well-deserved nothingness edged in among the busyness of real life. Tomorrow, one will be studying at home and one will be at college. Their dad and I will balance work, dog walking with C, and tending everything that needs tending. It will certainly be a busier day.

But, for some years, alongside some activities and friendships beyond the home, this nothingness was not the restful part of an otherwise productive life. Most of our children’s days followed this meandering thread of interests, conversations, relationships, and curiosity. And this gentle nothingness has proved, over time, to be a rich place where all sorts of knowledge, purpose, skills and ambition have naturally taken root, grown and flourished. It was hard to hold this space in the beginning, because all I could see were the things they weren’t doing, and all the ways that they might fall behind other children. It took a while for the joy to come and for me to understand the real magic of this space.

I would suggest that as a society we massively undervalue this strangely radical act of living in a non-striving way, particularly for our children. Yet, at the same time, we are certainly aware of its essential nature for humans. It is generally understood now that always striving for more, constantly proving our self-worth, and competing with others is profoundly depleting. Many people find it hard to distinguish between what they want to do and what they are expected to do. We applaud people who figure this out, who leave the rat race to live a more connected life, and mindfulness has become an accessible way for people to shift from the perpetual brain noise of “Doing” mode to the more connected “Being” mode.

Should we stress our children about not falling behind? Make them believe that they must prove themselves? Let them confuse scores and grades with their own sense of worth? Engage them already in a game that we adults know is flawed? 

There is so much richness and learning to be found in spaces where we don’t need to perform, compete or achieve. When our children are free to reconnect with themselves and those around them, and to follow the natural threads of their own lives, ideas pop up because they are meaningful to them, curiosity has time to stretch and move in different directions, thoughts are shared and appreciated, and relationships are navigated with compassion. This feels about as wonderful as “real life” could possibly get. Someone else, if they were to peek in might well be horrified and exclaim that these children aren’t doing anything. But, relaxed, stress-free and connected to what matters to them, they are, ironically, in the best possible place for learning and expanding. Perhaps it’s time to redefine “doing nothing”.