Just Do Nothing

If you are anything like me, then it’s far too easy to get distracted these days. I can’t even sit and watch TV without checking my phone every couple of minutes and playing my Switch at the same time. Things get so busy, and there’s so much craving for your attention, that even 5 minutes sitting doing nothing feels like a waste of precious time.
But is it? I rush from post to post all day, every day and it’s not like I get to the end of every day satisfied I’ve spent every second productively. Even those times when I am ‘doing’ something. Is it always a productive use of my time? 2 hours into a YouTube binge-watching rock-climbing tutorial I could probably argue this is less productive than just going out climbing.

I know I enjoy spending time outside, but it’s usually occupied by different hobbies. Running, hiking, cycling, triathlon, wild camping, the list goes on. But they’re all ‘doing’ something as well. What about if instead I just go outside and do nothing?

So, I did. I got up and left my house at 5:30 am and walked down to a local stream and sat doing nothing but watch the world go away (and write a few notes for this blog). I sat and avoided my phone or any other distractions for a full hour.

Now, I didn’t exactly go far for my little sit in nature. There’s a stream by my house, with a big, old tree right on its edge which makes for a nice little spot. I chose this spot for reason. It’s so close to my house that I run past it regularly. I’ve noticed it before, and have stopped there occasionally to catch my breath, but this time I really wanted to take in my surroundings. Notice things that I wouldn’t normally.

So I pitched up on the bank of the stream, avoiding the stinging nettles, and sat for a full hour without the distractions of my phone, the internet or anyone else (unless they walked by). I sat and watched and listened. Listened to the gentle trickle of water from the stream, which competed for my attention against the distant rumble of cars busying themselves on the way to jobs, and the occasional echo of machinery from a nearby quarry. My little spot was shaded from the rising sun, but the occasional glint of sunlight would penetrate the leaves of my tree and dance across the flowing water. Beyond the embankment of the stream was a farmer’s field, boxed in by a line of trees, all growing evermore golden as the sun rose.

Fifteen minutes have passed and I’ve still not moved. As we move further into the morning, birds begin to wake and compete against the noise of the water and the cars. I can hear all sorts of different bird songs and feel somewhat disappointed that, although I can tell the difference, I have no idea which birds those songs belong to until I recognise the hoot of an owl in the distance. And, although I can hear the birds, I don’t see them until an aeroplane roars above us and they take off with it, flying from one tree to another.

More time passes, and I stop searching intentionally for things to notice and just sit with a blank mind, watching the water flow below me. The stream is gentle and shallow, gliding like liquid glass over the riverbed, which is dark and mysterious. As the sun rises higher, more and more light breaks through onto the water and deep strips of the riverbed are painted by the shine. I can see the pebbles and stones which make up the river bed. A mismatch of colours. Orange, white, brown and purple.

My moment of tranquillity is broken, as I see two golden retrievers race across the field on the other side of the stream, heading straight for a small bridge which connects the public footpath. I’d gotten up early, partly to watch the sunrise, but also to try and avoid any distractions. As I watched those dogs bounce closer and closer, tails wagging, I knew my peace was about to be disturbed. They crashed along the bridge, leapt into the water and began splashing around. Running further downstream until they could fully immerse themselves into the water and swim. I was jealous.

Their own came past half a minute or so later, apologising for the dogs disturbing me. He explained that he came to him most mornings as his dogs loved to swim, and I realised if anything, I am the one disturbing him and his peaceful moment of being outside. He chatted to me whilst the dogs continued to hurdle the embankment, diving back into the water, and told me about all the wildlife he sees when he comes each morning and for I am filled with the hope of spotting a kingfisher or crayfish like he has before.

He and the dogs eventually continue their walk and I am left with just 15 minutes of my hour. I just sit and let my mind wander. It didn’t take long for the chaos of the dogs playing to fade before the stream returns to flowing gently. I watch as a couple of brown leaves fall from the tree, hitting the water without sinking and then float downstream, racing between the ripples of water. Just a little further down the stream, the water leaves the shade and bursts to life. The early morning light gleamed on the surface, and the heat caused a low-hanging mist to flow over the water like smoke. I spot a bunch of dragonflies racing across the water.

The final few minutes pass by without much distraction and my mind begins to slip back into the worry of busying myself with the day. As I pack my notepad back into my bag, I reflect on the last hour. I don’t feel like it’s been a waste of time. I’ve enjoyed just sitting and watching this small little plot of land and everything it has to offer. I’ve managed to keep my mind free of worries about work and other distractions, and I feel considerably better for having had that time to just do nothing.

If you, like me, spend too much time distracted then I’d recommend having your own little moments of solitude. It doesn’t have to be an hour tucked away under a tree. It could just be sitting in your garden or local park with a cup of tea, phone on aeroplane mode and put away, and that in fact, is exactly what I’m about to go and do now that I’ve finished writing this.