Are you doing enough nothing?
On the neuroscience of nothing and the art of loafing well
I couldn’t see a thing. Pitch black. Eyes open or closed—no difference.
I couldn’t hear a thing. Absolute silence.
But most oddly, I couldn’t feel a thing either.
I was floating, weightlessly, in a pool of salt water. But there was zero sense of where my body stopped and the water began. The water was heated to perfectly match my skin temperate.
I was in the tank—the tank, that for $100, sold me absolutely nothing.
384 cubic feet of solitude.
And for nothing, it was money well spent. Being deprived of every sense apparently causes the brain to drift into theta-state—the brainwave activity between half-awake and half dreaming. You’d think being in a tank with no sense to latch onto would be boring, and your mind would rescue you by thinking about something.
That’s not what happened.
I left feeling a sense of calm, with a stillness that stuck with me beyond the tank for the rest of the afternoon and evening. I walked home slowly. I didn’t feel an itch to look at my phone when I was alone. And I just did everything slowly for the rest of the day, with no nagging guilt to do something.
It also gave me a kick of creativity, because when distractions and overthinking fall away, clarity stuff comes to the surface….muddy water is best cleared by leaving it alone.
But this isn’t an ad for expensive deprivation tanks.
Because who sells ice to Eskimos. Nothing is free.
The Stoics, Buddhists, modern philosophers like Watts and Harris, and writers like Vonnegut and Whitman—all with wise eyes for the human experience—have been telling us why we should all find time to do nothing…to respect the art of loafing…to simply be…for hundreds of years.
“The meaning of life is just to be alive. It is so plain and so obvious and so simple. And yet, everybody rushes around in a great panic as if it were necessary to achieve something beyond themselves.”
— Alan Watts
“Nowhere you can go is more peaceful—more free of interruptions—than your own soul.”
— Marcus Aurelius
“Sitting quietly, doing nothing, spring comes, and the grass grows by itself.”
— The Buddha
“We are here on Earth to fart around, and don't let anybody tell you different.”
– Kurt Vonnegut
“I loaf and invite my soul, I lean and loaf at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.”
– Walt Whitman
After my experience of true nothingness—not that I hadn’t heard the philosophy of it before and didn’t have some practice with it—I wanted to brush up on my thinking and understanding of what it means to actually tap into peace and stillness through little moments of doing nothing. Especially because the practice of it is fucking hard.
Hard to find the time. Hard to do nothing when it seems like nothing in fact requires you do something. And personally, extremely hard to not feel guilty about it thanks to years of conditioning that doing nothing is wrong…and not how you win. We’re told, if you want success, you better be moving and doing the thing.
So, this short letter covers three things:
Why nothing is good
When to do nothing
How to do nothing
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I often have to remind myself that doing nothing isn’t being lazy.
As my favorite Stoic said, “Restlessness is symptomatic of a sick mind”.
Intentional Nothing is the necessary resistance to the urge to always be doing something. A rejection of the tyranny of always needing a reason. A middle finger to the cult of utility. And an invitation to yourself to pause, look around, and be still with yourself and be aware of the good. To enjoy the simplest of things.
One of the best arguments for doing nothing is this: look at what constant doing is doing to us. Living in New York, I feel this all the time. The need to be in motion. More goals, more growth, more grit, more. But similarly to what I wrote last time, in chasing the next thing, we often miss the thing we’re in. The life, right now. And in return get stress and anxiety.
This is what “the present moment is all we ever have” means, because to be lost in distraction is to miss the only thing that’s real. Even 60 seconds of pure awareness—no striving, no commentary—is a return to sanity.
As Watts once said, “The meaning of life is just to be alive.” Not to monetize your passion. Not to optimize your mornings. Not to meditate better. Just to be alive. And yet, we rush around as if that were some kind of trap to escape—guilting ourselves if we take a break. Like we’re not worthy if we’re not creating.
But in doing so, we miss out on the sacredness of the unproductive moment.
“Nothing, to my way of thinking, is better proof of a well ordered mind that a man’s ability to just stop where he is and pass some time in his own company.” — Seneca
And this isn’t just meditative fluff from poets and stone faces, science backs up the power of the loaf.
Research on mind-wandering, default mode network (DMN) activation, and creative incubation points to something obvious we’ve forgotten: the brain does important work when it’s doing Nothing.
So, there is also a productive benefit to doing nothing. For example…
The Default Mode Network (DMN), also known as our our brain’s "resting state", lights up when we’re not focused on a task. This is when our brain consolidates memory, clears mental RAM, processes emotions, reflects on identity, and connects unrelated ideas. AKA. pattern spotting and creative thinking.
Doing nothing improves problem-solving. In one study, people who were given a break and told to rest solved creative problems 40% more effectively than those who worked straight through. Small gaps matter.
Pausing reduces our cortisol levels. Another study showed that even short mindful breaks (2–3 minutes) helps to lower stress hormones and improves our ability to keep paying attention. Nothing improves flow.
So when your brain wanders while staring at the clouds, it’s not being inefficient and you’re not being lazy—you’re allowing it to access a deeper operating system.
The one that produces creative insight and helps you feel good.
In other words, doing nothing often helps you to doing something better.
You don’t need a float tank.
Do nothing when you feel the itch to do something out of boredom. That impulse to open Instagram, or check and refresh email again (for no reason), or even just open your phone randomly and cycle through apps (is that just me?). Pause. Notice it. Let it pass. That moment is pure power—because every time you resist a compulsion, you’re taking back some ownership of your attention.
Do nothing when you’re overwhelmed. Busyness for me is definitely a form of emotional avoidance. When my brain’s juggling too many tabs, going to the balcony and stopping to do nothing for even a minute or two is a pattern interrupt that time and again have rewired the trajectory of my day.
Do nothing before you speak or reply. Especially when angry, nervous, or uncertain. The space between stimulus and response is where wisdom lives. Let that space grow by doing a little bit of nothing.
Do nothing when you're alone. Instead of instantly filling the silence with podcasts or a show or phone scrolling, just let stillness be there for a few minutes. Hang out with yourself for a few.
Do nothing even when things are good. This is the zen-level move. Most people think of stillness as a means to escape suffering—but it’s just as valuable in the good times. So let the good and happy moments sink in.
The point is to not fret about some perfect schedule. It’s little moments of awareness where you mute the voice that says you’re a bum if you’re not “on”, performing, or visibility productive.
You deserve to feel good. You deserve nothing.
Since the whole point of doing nothing is not to try too hard, here are a 8 low-effort things I do to do Nothing. The paradox of it, I know.
I don’t see them as spiritual or even things to get “right”. They’re just small ways I try to reclaim my biggest asset: my attention.
I watch my cats do nothing
Nobody does nothing like my cats, so I like to learn from the best. I often just sit on the couch and watch them. Their little noses crinkling, or paws twitching as they sleep lost in some dream. Or just as they gaze out the window. I find it very relaxing just being with them. I’m watching Leo now in fact, and oh boy is he cute.
Stare out the window with coffee
I romanticize my morning coffee. I like to sip slowly and just look. At birds, trees, clouds, buildings. Whatever’s outside. Usually as the first thing I do when I’m up.Lie in bed with no agenda
Before sleep, don’t reach for anything. Just let your mind drift and let the silence do its thing. Some tea and a candle, just sitting for a few is often a little doorway into deeper consciousness—if you don’t slam it shut with stimulus.Raw dog the elevator or subway
I feel like a tool when I remember to stand in the elevator and resist the discomfort and awkwardness that my phone would save me from, but it’s good practice. Same thing with trains…great opportunity to just buckle up and raw dog it with your thoughts.Gaze at the ceiling
Lie down (bed, couch, floor, or grass) and look up. Let your eyes softly gaze at the texture of your ceiling, or the sky if you're outside. Let your thoughts drift and notice whatever comes up. And if you have a cool idea or feel motivated (often what comes from doing nothing), try not rush off to do it. Respect the loaf.Free flow word dump, but with no purpose
This isn’t doing “nothing” per se, but I feel like it’s in a similar camp. It’s something I learned from Matthew Dicks’ Storyworthy. It’s not art and it’s not journaling. Just pen on paper and you spitballing words. Start with a single word or memory—any random word, place, or object that pops into your mind—and free-write for a few minutes about it. The exercise helps unlock forgotten memories, and trains your brain to see story potential in everyday life…from seemingly nothing moments. It taps into the idea that “We don’t lead uninteresting lives. We just fail to notice.”Take a pointless walk
No step goals. No errands along the way. No music. Just wander around the block like a curious dog sniffing the world. Let whatever come to you.Do something slowly
Chores suck and I hate cooking. I usually want to rush through them to get on with my evening. But sometimes, if I remember, I try do it like meditation. Watering the plants. Doing the laundry. Cleaning. Whatever it is, try move at half-speed on purpose and without something to occupy you like a podcast. Sounds psycho, but see how weird and good it feels.
Wait…am I becoming my cat?
Good.
This week sometime, or today, or maybe even right after reading this, try to find one moment—just one—where you’re about to fill space with some stimulation.
And don’t.
Don’t read the next newsletter in your inbox. Don’t open the app to check. Don’t passively scroll. Don’t multitask. Don’t push for progress. Just pause and break through the restlessness.
Let the moment be empty, and notice what fills it.
Respect the loaf.
That’s the practice of nothing.
That’s the point of nothing.
And sometimes…that moment of nothing is everything.
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More good times :)
"The space between stimulus and response is where wisdom lives."
I have the fear of doing nothing. What if my skills erode? What if my competition catches up with the new stuff and I’m left behind? Reading this gives me a lot of perspective on why you have to reset and refocus. The Asian work culture never lets you do that but I guess we have to make the effort to do nothing. Thanks for writing this!