The Lost Art of Doing Nothing

Somewhere along the way, doing nothing became something we felt we ought to apologise for. An exploration of our obsession with productivity, the psychology of leisure guilt and the forgotten pleasure of an evening without an agenda.

SLEEP & RELAXATION

Emma Sobey

10/23/20268 min read

A cosy, empty armchair overlooking a peaceful garden at sunset, with soft lighting and a warm blanke
A cosy, empty armchair overlooking a peaceful garden at sunset, with soft lighting and a warm blanke

The Lost Art of Doing Nothing

Somewhere along the way, doing nothing became something we felt we ought to apologise for.

Ask someone what they've been doing over the weekend and they'll usually offer a respectable account of their activities. They've been gardening, visiting friends, sorting out the spare bedroom or catching up with jobs around the house.

Very occasionally, someone admits they've done absolutely nothing.

And almost invariably, they say it with a slightly guilty expression.

As though they ought to have been doing something more worthwhile.

We've become remarkably good at filling our time. Less good, perhaps, at allowing it to remain empty.

Even relaxation has acquired its own vocabulary of achievement. We don't simply rest any more. We practise self-care, optimise our wellbeing, establish evening routines and work towards becoming calmer, happier, more balanced versions of ourselves.

All admirable ambitions, of course.

But there's something faintly ridiculous about turning relaxation into another project requiring our attention.

Perhaps we've forgotten that occasionally, it's perfectly acceptable to do nothing at all.

The tyranny of being useful

Most of us have spent much of our lives learning to be productive.

From childhood, we're encouraged to work hard, use our time wisely and make something of ourselves.

As adults, these expectations become deeply embedded in everyday life.

We measure our days by what we've accomplished. We take satisfaction in crossing things off lists. We feel pleased when we've had a particularly productive morning.

There's nothing inherently wrong with that. Accomplishment can be enormously satisfying.

The difficulty arises when productivity becomes the measure of whether our time has been worthwhile.

An hour spent cleaning the house feels justified because there's a visible result.

An hour spent doing absolutely nothing can feel strangely uncomfortable.

The house hasn't improved. Nothing has been completed. There's no achievement to report.

And that rather persistent voice in the back of your mind begins suggesting alternative uses for your time.

You could be sorting through those photographs.

You could finally organise that cupboard.

You could make a start on next week's arrangements.

You could, apparently, be doing almost anything other than sitting quietly enjoying yourself.

What makes this especially absurd is that we're often desperate for the opportunity to rest.

We spend the week looking forward to having time to ourselves, then feel vaguely dissatisfied when we finally get it.

Even our relaxation has become hard work

Consider the enormous industry that has developed around helping us relax.

There are apps to improve our concentration, devices to monitor our sleep, programmes to measure our fitness and increasingly elaborate routines designed to improve every aspect of our lives.

We can track our sleep quality, monitor our stress levels and receive reminders that we haven't spent enough time being mindful.

It's quite possible to finish an evening's relaxation feeling that you've failed to relax efficiently enough.

The problem isn't the tools themselves. Many people find them genuinely useful.

It's the assumption that every experience must be improved, measured or made productive.

We begin approaching rest with the same mentality we apply to work.

Did I do enough?

Was it beneficial?

Could I have spent the time more effectively?

And suddenly, the very thing that was supposed to offer relief from constant demands has acquired a fresh set of expectations.

Relaxation doesn't need a performance review.

The psychology of feeling guilty about doing nothing

There is an interesting psychological explanation for why some people find it difficult to enjoy their free time.

Researchers have investigated what happens when we regard leisure as wasteful or unproductive.

A 2021 study published in the Journal of Experimental Social Psychology found that people who viewed leisure as wasteful tended to enjoy leisure activities less. This belief was also associated with poorer psychological wellbeing.

The research, involving four studies and 1,310 participants, suggests that our attitudes towards relaxation can influence how much pleasure we experience from it.

In other words, if you believe you ought to be doing something useful, you may find it more difficult to enjoy doing something purely because you want to.

A more recent study published in 2026 examined what researchers call leisure guilt: the uncomfortable feeling that we should be doing something productive instead of enjoying ourselves.

Across four studies, researchers found that people who were more prone to leisure guilt reported less enjoyment and fewer psychological benefits from their leisure time.

Interestingly, leisure guilt was more common during solitary activities than when people were spending time with others.

Perhaps sitting quietly by yourself is particularly difficult to justify when nobody else is there to confirm that you're having a worthwhile experience.

The research doesn't mean everyone needs to spend more time doing nothing. But it challenges the assumption that rest must have a measurable purpose to be valuable.

For those interested in the research, the studies can be found in Viewing Leisure as Wasteful Undermines Enjoyment and Leisure Guilt.

The peculiar art of being permanently available

There was a time when leaving work generally meant leaving work.

You went home, closed the door and, barring a genuine emergency, whatever remained unfinished could wait until tomorrow.

Of course, that wasn't everyone's experience, particularly for those juggling employment with family responsibilities.

But modern technology has made the boundary between working and not working considerably less distinct.

Emails arrive in the evening. Messages appear during dinner. Someone asks a quick question that apparently cannot wait until morning.

Even when we're not responding, we know we could.

And sometimes that's enough to keep part of our attention occupied.

Psychologists refer to the ability to mentally disengage from work during non-working hours as psychological detachment.

A 2023 systematic review of 159 studies identified psychological detachment as an important aspect of recovery from work-related demands.

That distinction matters.

You can physically leave your workplace while remaining mentally absorbed in its problems.

Equally, you can be sitting comfortably at home while mentally organising the following day's responsibilities.

Rest isn't simply the absence of physical activity.

It's also an opportunity to stop attending to demands that don't currently require your involvement.

The forgotten pleasure of an ordinary evening

Think about the small, uneventful moments that make life pleasant.

Sitting in the garden long after you've finished whatever you went outside to do.

Listening to a familiar piece of music without simultaneously checking your messages.

Watching the changing light on the wall as the afternoon draws to a close.

Having a conversation that doesn't need to lead anywhere in particular.

These moments don't necessarily teach us anything, improve our fitness or contribute towards a goal.

They're enjoyable because we're experiencing them.

And yet we're remarkably quick to interrupt them.

A thought occurs. Something needs checking. We remember an unfinished task.

Before long, we've abandoned the moment in favour of another small responsibility.

Perhaps we sometimes underestimate the value of allowing an experience to exist without demanding anything from it.

Not everything needs to become a memory worth photographing, an activity worth discussing or an achievement worth recording.

Sometimes an ordinary evening can simply be an ordinary evening.

Why unwinding after a stressful day isn't always easy

There's a difference between wanting to relax and being able to settle into relaxation.

After a particularly demanding day, we may remain mentally alert long after the immediate pressures have disappeared.

Stress involves psychological and physiological responses that help us deal with challenges. These responses can be useful when something requires our attention.

But if we've spent hours dealing with demands, interruptions and responsibilities, it may take time for that heightened sense of alertness to diminish.

The NHS guidance on stress describes how stress can affect both the mind and body, and recommends making time for relaxation alongside other ways of managing pressure.

One reason we struggle to unwind after a stressful day is that stopping an activity doesn't necessarily mean we've stopped anticipating the next one.

Our minds may continue planning, checking and preparing.

And for some people, that mental activity has become so familiar that genuine stillness feels uncomfortable.

The answer isn't necessarily to add another elaborate relaxation routine to an already demanding day.

It may begin with recognising that the day's demands no longer require quite so much attention.

An evening without an agenda

Imagine, for a moment, that you've been given an entirely free evening.

There are no urgent responsibilities. Nobody requires your assistance. Nothing dreadful will happen if you leave the laundry until tomorrow.

What would you do?

For some people, the answer comes immediately.

For others, the prospect is strangely unsettling.

We become so accustomed to responding to obligations that choosing something purely for enjoyment can feel unfamiliar.

But doing nothing doesn't have to mean sitting motionless in complete silence.

It might mean listening to music because you enjoy it, rather than because it's supposed to improve your mood.

It might mean taking a gentle walk without counting your steps.

It could be reading a novel without feeling obliged to finish a chapter, or simply sitting outside watching the evening arrive.

The important distinction is that you're not trying to accomplish anything.

You're allowing yourself a period of time without demands.

And if your mind begins producing suggestions about more useful activities, you don't necessarily have to act on them.

You can acknowledge the thought and remain exactly where you are.

Tomorrow's tasks will still be available tomorrow.

Not all free time needs to be peaceful

Of course, relaxation looks different for different people.

Some enjoy silence and solitude. Others find comfort in company, conversation or activity.

For one person, an ideal evening involves a book and a comfortable chair.

For another, it might involve dancing around the kitchen to music that nobody else particularly appreciates.

There's no universal formula for unwinding.

And there shouldn't be.

A lively evening with friends can be as restorative as a quiet hour alone, depending on the person and their circumstances.

Even activities requiring effort can provide pleasure and a sense of meaning.

The point isn't that we should all become less active.

It's that we don't have to justify our leisure by turning it into another form of productivity.

Enjoyment is a perfectly respectable reason for doing something.

And sometimes, not doing anything in particular is a perfectly respectable choice too.

The permission we never quite give ourselves

Perhaps one of the more curious things about adulthood is how long we continue waiting for permission.

Permission to take a break.

Permission to leave something unfinished.

Permission to spend money or time on ourselves without explaining why it was necessary.

We may have spent years being responsible for other people, meeting expectations and making sure everything runs smoothly.

Eventually, those responsibilities can become so deeply embedded that we struggle to recognise when we're allowed to put them down.

There's always something else to be done.

But that will probably be true for the rest of our lives.

The washing will never be permanently finished. Someone will always need an answer. Another task will appear as soon as we've completed the last one.

If we wait until absolutely everything has been taken care of before allowing ourselves to relax, we may spend an extraordinary amount of time waiting.

Rest doesn't have to be a reward for completing every responsibility.

It's part of living.

And it deserves a place in our lives even when the to-do list remains stubbornly unfinished.

Rediscovering the pleasure of doing nothing

Perhaps the lost art of doing nothing isn't really about inactivity.

It's about allowing ourselves to exist without constantly measuring what we're achieving.

It's recognising that an evening doesn't need to be useful to be worthwhile.

That we can enjoy something without turning it into a personal development exercise.

That we can occasionally stop planning, organising, improving and evaluating.

And that the world is perfectly capable of carrying on for a little while without our supervision.

There will be plenty to do tomorrow.

There almost always is.

But for tonight, perhaps you've done enough.

Unwind the Day with A Brave New Mind

If you find it difficult to make the transition from a busy day into a quieter evening, a guided relaxation recording can offer something gentle to focus on while you settle.

Unwind the Day from A Brave New Mind is an invitation to put aside the pressure to remain constantly occupied and make a little room for yourself.

There's no need to make your evening productive, improve yourself or achieve a particular state of relaxation.

Simply find somewhere comfortable and give yourself time to listen.

Unwind the Day – A Brave New Mind Available on Spotify and Amazon Music.

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info@abravenewmind.org

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