Don’t Do Anything
5 minute read
“Don’t do anything” has become my mantra over the first couple of weeks of sabbatical.
It sounds deep—and annoyingly vague.
It reminds me of the surfing scene in Forgetting Sarah Marshall (the most underrated RomCom in the 21st century):
“The less you do, the more you do.”
Wise words from Kunu, the affable and kooky surf instructor.
But what does it mean? And how do I know what’s something and nothing?
This question proved difficult to answer because I was staring into an abyss of uncertainty (the trademark of sabbaticals), and because I’m used to operating in an environment that demands specificity. The corporate life runs on OKRs, KPIs, dashboards, and hard data—or so we like to think.
There is no certain answer. And whatever approximation of clarity we have— whatever ray of light manages to brush our face—is unique to us. Your something and nothing will be unique to you.
As I sat with this question and studied the tension it created, I realized that don’t do anything was only half the mantra. I had to discover the other halves.
Let’s find those missing pieces, shall we?
Don’t do anything…that doesn’t bring you joy and put you in a flow state
You can measure joy by the number of smiles and laughter you experience. The rush of happy hormones (endorphins, dopamine, oxytocin) traversing all over your body. I’m working on becoming a better accountant of these sensations.
The second piece is flow state. I suggest checking out the 8 characteristics of flow state in this article, but the easiest way to think about flow state is to recall an experience or activity where you’ve lost sense of time, your thoughts didn’t wander, and you felt satisfied afterwards.
In Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Peter’s passion project was a puppet Dracula rock opera (which I wish was a real thing). In the movie, this is what eventually got him out of his post-breakup funk. He found joy and timelessness in crafting his masterpiece.
There is a key distinction though. You could argue that spending hours on social media, playing video games, partying, indulging in alcohol/drugs are joyful experiences. Don’t be fooled by the empty calories though. Not all joyful experiences are alike, and I doubt that engaging in these activities too frequently will leave you with a sense of pride/satisfaction (and hey, if that is you then no judgment—we are just different people).
Under this lens, activities like spending hours on TikTok may be pleasant, but will not leave you with a sense of pride or feel timeless, whereas something like baking or painting will get you to a flow state with the added benefit of full bellies and colorful hands.
Don’t do anything…that keeps you from jumping the cliff
Transitionary periods are divergent by nature. It’s time to explore and to wander. But it’s hard to do that when your feet are anchored on land versus riding the wild waves of life. And yes, those waves will be uncomfortable and make you nauseous.
Being unmoored forces you to seek seeking unfamiliar experiences. It may be spending more time alone, or more time with people. It may be going into the rabbit hole of something completely random things like looking into the largest statues in the world. In my case, it was doing a tarot reading (if you read my essay on pop introspection, you can appreciate the 180 degree turn here).
Getting comfortable with discomfort is one of the best long-term skills to learn. And the best time to hone this skill is through big periods of change (e.g. sabbaticals). By that point, the status quo is not working for you, even if temporarily. What do you have to lose by trying something different?
It won’t be easy to jump off the cliff and go all in on discomfort. In my tender state of burnout, I’m giving myself grace to ease into it progressively. We’ll see if it works out.
Hold on though…
I just said to do things that bring you joy, and now I’m saying I’m saying to seek discomfort. What gives?
Welcome to the world of dualities.
The “don’t do anything” period of a sabbatical is a colander to sift through menial, soulless activities AND the false sense of comfort that routine provides us.
What remains from this filtering are the activities that fill us with energy (because they put us in flow state), as well as new novel experiences that expand our awareness and bring overall happiness—even if some of the activities are uncomfortable themselves. Dr. Andrew Huberman puts it best: “Happiness is a progressive expansion of the things that bring you pleasure…[it] takes work.”
Even if you are not in a sabbatical or in any sort of pause from your professional life, it may be worth asking yourself “What’s my rock opera?” and “What cliff is worth jumping off?”
