Column: Practicing the art of doing nothing takes a lot of doing

I am trying to do nothing this week.

Why do I have to work so hard at it? Why should doing nothing take such effort?

Doing nothing helps us relax, get our priorities in order and, perhaps, develop a better outlook on life. Yet our lives have become so cluttered, it’s hard to find time just to sit on the front porch, or meander through a park. We may feel we are too busy for such frivolities. We may feel guilty about “wasting time.” Or, we may just feel uncomfortable about doing anything without a purpose in mind.

Even video gamers have goals!

My husband, Paul, and I have been scheduling a “do-nothing” vacation for the past 13 years. It didn’t exactly start out that way. Initially, we rented a mid-coast cottage to share with our 80-something mothers, who lived in southern New England. My mother knew how to do nothing, but my mother-in-law was a more “keep busy” type of person. So, that first year, we did quite a bit of sightseeing, shopping, eating out and visiting state parks.

After that, only my mother was able to come up for her week on the coast, which she did for five more years. We did less and less, and enjoyed ourselves more and more. Hanging out in our oceanside perch was basically all we needed.

Still, it’s hard to leave our real lives behind, even for just a week. One year, after Paul’s mom passed, her house sold during our vacation. This meant Paul had to go into town to fax materials back and forth.

We bring our two dogs with us and cook most of our own meals, so there’s no way we can just do nothing for very long.

I do try my darndest, though. Looking at the water is a good way to do nothing. Even if I have a book in my hands, as I sit on the deck, I find myself gazing ahead. Birds swoop by. A loon calls. A sailboat is coming into the harbor. I can see a tanker ship on the horizon. The fog rolls in, and rolls back out. A child and a dog frolic on the beach below. I don’t even take a photo. I just watch.

Going out in my kayak is a meditative experience. I have to let it be, though. I cannot be counting how many calories I am burning, or how far I am paddling. No turning it into an endurance test, either.

Harder still is putting thoughts of my to-do list out to pasture. Sometimes I even dream about missing deadlines or otherwise messing up. I had to check my e-mail the other day because of such a nightmare. No, my “fail” was all in my head.

I was fortunate to grow up in the early 1960s, when kids were still allowed to do nothing. I don’t believe I was ever signed up for anything but swimming and tennis lessons. The only organized sports I ever played were school intramurals. Most of my free time was spent aimlessly riding my bicycle, reading (on a low tree branch, weather permitting), or banging tennis balls against the side of the house.

Doing nothing does not have to include sitting (and if it does, a rocking chair is helpful). It really means doing something that does not require a lot of thought. It means doing something just for the fun of it.

Children today are sadly lacking in do-nothing time. If they are not involved in some organized program, they are playing video games. They are constantly accompanied by music. Texting is a 24/7 activity.

I well know the temptations of electronics. But, as an adult, I know that if I am to be a whole person, I need to put them aside sometimes. Even playing mindless Facebook games like “Candy Crush” is not doing nothing. It can be a stress reliever in its own way, true. But it takes a truly mindless activity, like shelling peas or pounding bread dough, to let the brain rest and rejuvenate. Reboot, if you like.

I’m also an adult who remembers what it was like to do nothing. That memory urges me to do things the slow way sometimes—to walk to my destination, to chop onions by hand instead of throwing them into the food processor.

When I was a young woman, day-care centers began springing up as women went into the workplace in droves. I thought then, when I was so much closer to my childhood, that being in a such a place as a child might have ruined me for life. I would not have had the time to dance to my records, play dress up with my mother’s clothes, or wander around the attic arranging my stuffed animals to be my students, my audience or my tea-party guests. This was my life at age four—how I learned about myself, my interests, my likes and dislikes; and, most importantly, how to entertain myself.

Now, I just wish I had more time to use those do-nothing skills. I’m determined to do so, however—and summer is the best time to practice.