It’s surprisingly hard to do nothing

One of my goals this year is to relearn the simple art of just sitting and enjoying the present moment. I became intimately acquainted with this ability during my four-month hospital stay 18 months ago. Back then, I had no choice but to surrender to the stillness.

In the months after leaving hospital, but still at home, I found joy in watching the birds from my balcony, listening to music (not the news) savoring each sip of coffee, and eating my lunch slowly.

But as I returned to work, that hard-earned skill started to slip away. I’m back to old habits – checking my phone the moment I wake up, turning on the news, and filling my days with activity. It creates a sense of conflict within me. I love my work, but the last 18 months revealed that those things aren’t the true center of my life.

One beautiful change that emerged from this period is a deeper connection with my family in Lismore. Now, I check in with them every day. Sometimes it’s just a quick 40-second call, other times longer conversations. These frequent, informal check-ins have strengthened our bond in a way that weekly phone calls never could.

Lately, I’ve been making a conscious effort to reclaim that stillness. I sit in my comfy chair, gaze out the window, and greet the cockatoos and other birds that visit the trees nearby. When the urge to get up and do something arises, I resist. I try to stay present and simply enjoy the moment.

Some mornings I wake up early, others late. On workdays, I’m usually out the door by 8. But even on weekends, I struggle with this “wasted time” mentality. This morning, for example, I finished breakfast and immediately felt that familiar pull to fill the time – to go out, run errands, do anything but just sit.

This feeling of needing to be productive is so ingrained. It took a significant life event, being forced to stop, to break free from it. Now, I have a choice, and I’m determined to choose stillness, to truly savor my life.