I’ve long worshipped at the altar of “busyness”. I have running, ongoing lists of things I’d like to, and intend to, complete. Lists for house projects, lists for garden and landscaping projects. Reading lists. Essentially, all manner of lists for filling up my free time. For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt uncomfortable if I wasn’t “doing” something. If it helped the planet, or my community, or my friends and family in the process, even better. And then I met my husband, who worships at the diametrically opposed alter of “slowness”, accompanied by its first cousin, “idleness.” [image credits, clockwise from top left: the washington post, popmatters, dullog, wikimedia, sign post tours, amazon]

Never one to rush through anything, he helped me learn the beauty in being aware of each experience (instead of my customary pining for the past or longing for the future), of reducing my pace enough to really see what’s occurring around me, to enjoy just simply “being”. Part and parcel of his approach includes relishing idleness-not over-planning life, simply taking the time to notice the trees, along with the forest. I couldn’t have hoped for a more perfect foil.

And so, today’s small measure celebrates the decidedly low-fi activity of nothingness, of loafing, of absently whiling away the minutes and hours. The pursuit of inactivity is seriously maligned in today’s do-more, be-more, see-more, go-more culture. “Idle hands are the devil’s tools”, courtesy of one Geoffrey Chaucer (Tale of Melibee), is a mindset so deeply ingrained in modern society that many of us feel guilty for having a long, ambling lunch, or taking an impromptu nap, or simply seeing where the day takes us.

“The Art of Doing Nothing: Simple Ways to Make Time for Yourself” by Veronique Vienne is full of insights, suggestions, and tidbits for embracing intentional loafing. From meditating to taking a long bath to staring pointlessly at the sea, Vienne engages her readers to find merit in simply “being” instead of always “doing.” In Tom Lutz’s
“Doing Nothing: A History of Loafers, Loungers, Slackers, and Bums in America” , we learn about inspirational do-nothings, from Thoreau to Oscar Wilde to Kerouac.

As for myself, I’ve learned that my finest bursts of creativity occur when loafing about. The long, lingering cup of tea whilst watching the sun rise over the ridge behind my house, the extended rocking chair session on the front porch, the purposeless gazing at the creek across the road from my mother’s house-when my focus isn’t anywhere but on that which is right before me, my mind seizes the opportunity to move freely around and about its nooks and crannies, folds and membranes, surprising me with unplanned, unprovoked, unintentional delights.

CLICK HERE for the rest of “Constitutional Rights (Or, The Art of Loafing)”, more on the walking “constitutional” and the Cloud Appreciation Society’s manifesto after the jump!

Two of my most favorite idling pursuits are the “constitutional” and “cloud watching.” A walk taken simply for the sake of well-being and pleasure, the constitutional was once widely practiced. In some parts of the world, such as China, it still is. The Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard was a serious devotee of the constitutional: “Above all,” he wrote, “do not lose your desire to walk. Every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness. I have walked myself into my best thoughts…” Walking clearly makes for brilliant minds. Friedrich Nietzsche, Mahatma Ghandi, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Albert Einstein, and Charles Darwin similarly found solace, well-being, and inspiration during their ambles. According to Nietzsche, “All great thoughts are conceived while walking.” He would know. I’ve found that, for a constitutional to truly work, both physically and mentally, it can’t be rushed. Move along at a comfortable rate, knowing that, at the risk of sounding cliché, the journey is the destination. A small notebook and pen or pencil can be handy, should “eureka” moments present themselves.

Cloud watching, another much-loved activity, costs nothing, is readily accessible anywhere on the planet, and unleashes the imagination more profoundly than many things I know. If you’re more of a joiner than a soloist, you’ll found your match in the Cloud Appreciation Society , lovers and aficionados of all things cumulus, stratus, and cirrus. I’m particularly fond of their manifesto:

“WE BELIEVE that clouds are unjustly maligned
and that life would be immeasurably poorer without them.

We think that they are Nature’s poetry,

and the most egalitarian of her displays, since
everyone can have a fantastic view of them.

We pledge to fight ‘blue-sky thinking’ wherever we find it.
Life would be dull if we had to look up at

cloudless monotony day after day.

We seek to remind people that clouds are expressions of the
atmosphere’s moods, and can be read like those of
a person’s countenance.

Clouds are so commonplace that their beauty is often overlooked.
They are for dreamers and their contemplation benefits the soul.
Indeed, all who consider the shapes they see in them will save
on psychoanalysis bills.

And so we say to all who’ll listen:
Look up, marvel at the ephemeral beauty, and live life with your head in the clouds!”

Here’s wishing you a weekend full of protracted brunches, drawn-out star gazing, lengthy conversations, idle walks, and pointless cloud watching!

*Please know, at this time of unspeakable tragedy for the citizens of Haiti, that my above post in no way advocates a lack of giving, concern, or activism. At all times, and especially now, I think it is imperative to be aware of, and act on behalf of, the needs and plights of those in one’s community, whether that community is the one that finds you rubbing shoulders with your neighbors, or one that is further away, on an island in the caribbean, devastated by a natural disaster.*

Tweet