How to do nothing to do a lot

The art of enjoying your summer break

This summer, I wanted to do something different. Despite being busy building my business from the ground up, during the Christmas break, I decided to… do nothing.

I wanted to enjoy my summer Down Under in a way I was never able to enjoy it. I wanted to bring back those days of my youth when my parents would ship me off to my granny’s house for the summer. Despite hating being away from my family, I loved the intentional lightness of being. I woke up around 10am, had freshly made pancakes with raspberry jam, picked up wild strawberries and cucumbers from the garden beds, jumped on my bike and off I went, with my friend, exploring the narrow dusty streets of a tiny township.

My childhood summers

It wasn’t a village, it was a community of people who had small pieces of land with equally small houses attached to them. The two-story houses weren’t suitable for Russian winter, so the entire place was abandoned come November. Things were very difficult in the 80s and 90s, and most people had to grow their own food to survive. Living in the ‘garden’ (that’s what we called the place) in summer months was standard practice, especially for retirees. Jams and conserves they made during summer would feed the entire extended family in the winter months.

I would spend 8-10 weeks living with my paternal grandmother, who took care of everything. She adored me and made sure I had everything I wanted. I slept on the second floor of the house next to a secret opening in the wall. There were photo albums with faces from the 50s, 60s, and 70s I didn’t recognise. Whenever my granny slept next to me, I asked her to tell me war stories. World War II. She was a child, a 7-year-old who watched her house burn down by the German army. They were hiding in a swamp for days, eating chestnuts and grass. She had so many stories about the war, the family, and the village. I loved them, cherished them, and heard them dozens of times.

My little nook felt magical. I read book after book, lying on the bed, listening to the rustle of a blooming lilac tree under my window. During the day, I played with a girl who lived next door, raided the greenhouses, swam in a muddy puddle we called a lake, watched ants march up and down rotting pieces of wood, lay on a rare patch of grass on the sun (all real estate was dedicated to growing edibles – no one could afford a luxury such is a lawn).

The inspiration behind the idea

This summer, after watching Call Me By Your Name for what felt like my hundredth time, I remembered my summer circa 1997. I was carefree, living in a moment, not dreading September when I’d return to school, simply because it seemed so far away. Could I… recreate those days in 2023? Could I let go of my deadlines and worries? Could I do… nothing? I decided to give it a go. Just for two weeks, I bargained with myself. Two weeks of no structure, no plans, no self-inflicted suffering.

I began my day around 5am — an old habit — went for a walk, in awe at the colour of the sky at dawn. When I returned home, I took a shower and that was the end of my structure for the day. I lay on a sofa staring at my toes or listening to the whispers of the old eucalyptus trees. I sat on the wicker sun bed, cushion under my neck, watching the clouds and planes hurry by. I drank instant coffee on the porch watching the rain, my cat sitting next to me, equally mesmerised by the glistening drops. I went for bike rides listening to Chopin and old pop Italian hits, struggling to hide my big foolish smile. I bought ice cream from McDonald’s down the road and went for slow aimless strolls around my quiet neighbourhood. I sat near the harbour watching the rhythmic jolts of water, fish, and tiny crabs. I read books, wrote in a journal, and typed a few particular persistent movie scenes that wouldn’t get out of my head.

How to succeed in doing nothing

We often feel like we don’t have enough hours in a day but the only remedy to this mad rush we’re in is a radical slowing down. Here are a few tips for recreating my staycation:

Schedule it!

Know exactly when your staycation is going to start and when it’s going to end.

Ask an expert!

Whenever I’m about to do something different (like deleting social media apps off my phone), I seek out information on the topic that’ll help me stay on track. Before embarking on a doing-nothing retreat, I listened to Jenny Odell’s book How To Do Nothing: resisting attention economy on Audible. Don’t have time to read a book? Watch her presentation on the politics and rewards of doing nothing.

Forget multitasking!

Do one thing at a time and as slowly as possible. The closest I came to multitasking during my break was listening to music while riding a bike. When we give our full attention to a task, we pull our mind back into the present moment.

Do what brings you joy!

I looked back at my childhood searching for the activity I enjoyed the most. It turned out to be bike riding: I used to love it, it made me feel free and present. A few months ago, I got myself an adorable second-hand cruiser and started going for quick rides along the harbour. The magic I felt as a child returned the moment I rolled out of my garage. Riding a bike with no purpose and no destination puts a smile on my face and makes me feel fully alive!

Listen to yourself!

Pay attention to what you feel like doing before changing gears and jumping to the next thing. This helps tap into the wisdom of your body, and trust me on this one, our body knows better! If you think you better read a book now, think again: do you need to read a book or do you want to do it? Big difference.

Do it with a friend!

Last year, I learned that doing something difficult with a friend gives you more chances to succeed. When I decided to embark on a book-writing journey, I found a friend who wanted to do it with me. Doing something together allows you to exchange experiences and normalise challenges that inevitably arise when you're trying something new or downright hard.

Write a permission slip!

If you’re struggling with feeling guilty, allow yourself to do nothing guilt-free by writing a permission slip. It can be as simple as: “I, ___, give myself permission to do very little without feeling any guilt.” Brené Brown introduced this idea in one of her books and I absolutely loved it!

Back to school

When the time came to get back to work, I was ready! The break was heaven and a great reminder that most worries are the product of our own creation. By the end of my retreat, I felt refreshed and oh, so peaceful. It reset my body and mind and called in the inspiration and drive I needed to return to work and all my projects.