Virtus 👊 #027: The Permission Slip to Do Nothing: Why Men Need Emptiness
Our world constantly pushes us toward perpetual motion. Hustle culture, productivity apps, and achievement-oriented mindsets dominate our lives, leaving little room for moments of genuine stillness.
Our world constantly pushes us toward perpetual motion. Hustle culture, productivity apps, and achievement-oriented mindsets dominate our lives, leaving little room for moments of genuine stillness. The modern man finds himself caught in an endless cycle of expectation – earn more, build more, achieve more, be more. We celebrate the grinders, the hustlers, the men who sleep four hours and conquer the world before breakfast.
But what if the most powerful thing you could do today isn't doing anything at all?
I realize this sounds somewhat philosophical, but I invite you to consider its merit. This concept has visited my thoughts repeatedly over the past six months, and I suspect it might resonate with many of you. As men, we're particularly susceptible to the productivity trap – our value often measured by what we produce rather than who we are.
The Undervalued Art of Nothingness
There's a subtle beauty in carving out time—perhaps on weekends—to engage in absolute inactivity. Women often joke about men's peculiar capacity for this state. The cultural meme portrays men sitting contentedly, thinking nothing, feeling nothing, doing nothing. While these memes poke fun, they inadvertently highlight a powerful ability many of us have buried under layers of productivity guilt.
I hope all of us can cultivate this capacity for Nothingness because I've come to recognize it as perhaps our most effective form of self-preservation. But it requires intention. True nothingness isn't scrolling through social media or half-watching a game while checking email. It's a deliberate emptying of the mental space – a conscious choice to temporarily step out of the production line of modern life.
During these moments, something remarkable happens. The mind, unburdened by tasks and expectations, often finds solutions to problems you weren't actively trying to solve. Creativity flows not when we squeeze it through the narrow channel of focused effort, but when we give it the open space to meander and explore.
The Guilt of Empty Hours
When we deliberately do nothing, an insidious guilt creeps in. Our conditioning from family, education, and society compels us to feel remorse during moments of disengagement. The internal narrative becomes accusatory: You're being lazy. You're procrastinating. You've WASTED a day. You've misused valuable time.
I firmly reject these assertions.
This guilt isn't natural – it's programmed. From early childhood, many of us were taught that our value comes from productivity. Good grades, athletic achievements, career advancement – external markers of success that leave little room for the vital practice of periodic emptiness. We've internalized the idea that every minute must be optimized, every hour accounted for, every day marked by forward progress.
Doing nothing represents a profound privilege—though excessive implementation would naturally lead to problems. I'm addressing those essential intervals between periods of intense effort and concentrated work. Think of it like weight training – the growth happens not during the lift itself, but during the recovery period. Without rest, muscle tears don't heal stronger; they simply break down.
Recently, I observed a demonstration featuring two steel balls racing along different paths. The losing competitor traveled a straight, smooth, slightly inclined surface. The winner, however, navigated a course with elevations, depressions, curves, and topographical variations. The rhythmic alternation between acceleration and rest ultimately determined the outcome. Our lives follow this same principle – the periods of rest and nothingness are not separate from our journey toward our goals; they're an essential component of it.
The Necessity of Solitude
This practice requires solitude—another state often misunderstood and stigmatized in our hyperconnected world. The deliberate pursuit of being alone without social engagement frequently raises concerns among others. "Is everything okay?" they ask, as if choosing solitude must indicate a problem.
In reality, solitude is the soil in which self-knowledge grows. It's in these quiet moments alone that we can hear the subtle voice of our authentic selves beneath the chorus of external expectations. For men especially, who are often defined by their relationships and roles – father, husband, boss, employee, friend – these moments of solitary nothingness allow us to reconnect with who we are when no one is watching and nothing is demanded.
This phenomenon transcends the introversion-extroversion spectrum. Even the most social among us need periods of genuine disconnection. It extends beyond meditation or contemplative practice, which still involve active mental effort. We're examining an underappreciated mental mechanism: restorative inactivity. Perhaps we could call it Mind Fasting—a temporary suspension of processing thoughts, emotions, and external input.
The Japanese concept of "ma" – the meaningful empty space between elements – offers a cultural framework for understanding this idea. The empty space in a room is what makes the furniture useful. The pauses between notes are what create music rather than noise. The spaces between our periods of productivity are what give those productive times their meaning and impact.
The Curious Paradox
There's an interesting proposition that when you become aware of Nothingness, it transforms into Something. The moment you think, "I'm doing nothing," you're actually doing something – the act of noticing. True nothingness may be impossible to achieve, yet it provides a framework to embrace—a state of well-deserved tranquility that doesn't necessarily produce happiness but simply allows you to exist without purpose or production.
This paradox reveals something important about the human mind. We're meaning-making machines, constantly interpreting, analyzing, and categorizing. Complete mental vacancy might be unattainable, but the pursuit itself creates a different quality of mental space – less crowded, less demanding, more open to whatever might arise.
Have you ever noticed how your best ideas come in the shower, during a walk, or just before sleep? These are moments when you've temporarily abandoned the active pursuit of solutions and allowed your mind to wander in the productive fields of nothingness. The breakthrough doesn't come from trying harder; it comes from temporarily not trying at all.
Beyond Simple Categories
The philosophical dimension deserves consideration. Nothing isn't inherently negative. It's not absence, void, evil, or death. It exists in its own category. Eastern philosophical traditions have long recognized the value of emptiness – the Buddhist concept of śūnyatā or the Taoist view of wu (nothingness) as the source of all things.
Western thought, with its emphasis on action and creation, often struggles with these concepts. We're taught that worth comes from doing, making, achieving. But what if the most profound achievements require periods of deliberate non-achievement? What if the most productive choice is sometimes choosing not to produce?
I find satisfaction in contemplating this curious concept, and occasionally, I experience the unexpected pleasure of thinking... absolutely nothing. It's like mental weightlessness – the temporary suspension of the gravitational pull of responsibilities, goals, and expectations.
Your Formal Permission
We live in a world saturated with noise and demands, my brothers. The constant ping of notifications, the endless stream of emails, the social media updates, the news cycle that never sleeps – all of it constructs a reality where doing nothing feels impossible, even forbidden.
Consider this your formal authorization to occasionally embrace... nothingness.
No goals. No purpose. No productivity metrics. No self-improvement. No social media updates. No side hustles. No catching up on emails.
Just your existence, present in the current moment.
The winning steel ball succeeded precisely because it understood when to gain momentum and when to rest. Our minds and bodies operate according to similar principles. The most successful men I know have mastered not just the art of intense focus and productivity, but also the art of deliberate disconnection – the courage to temporarily step away from the race.
So during your next weekend, when external pressures demand productive engagement, consider this alternative:
Do absolutely nothing.
Block off a few hours with no plan, no purpose, no screens, no distractions. Just be. Let your mind wander or settle into stillness. Stare out a window. Sit on your porch. Lie on the grass and watch clouds drift by. Let thoughts come and go without pursuing them.
And feel completely free from any resulting guilt.
Your necessary period of restorative inactivity has arrived. Embrace it not as a failure of productivity, but as an essential component of a well-lived life. In a world that profits from your constant engagement, doing nothing is a revolutionary act – a reclamation of your time and mental space.
The permission slip has been signed. The time for nothing is now.
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