Stop.
And do nothing.
I’m a surprisingly happy person.
More often than not the surprise is my own, and even as I write this now I’m blown away, in the most pleasant way imaginable, by this realization.
To the best of my recollection, I have never been happier in the 24 unremarkable years I’ve spent on this Earth. I have on many occasions — to close friends during private conversations, I should add — made remarks to this effect, at times boldly admitting that I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone else’s. And I would admit it again, without an iota of hesitation.
I’m doing work that fulfills me. My relationships are wholesome. My income is sufficient.
This doesn’t mean every second of existence is merry and carefree. Sometimes work gets frustrating, relationships take sore turns, and I find myself wishing for a bit more money than I have. Perhaps the best realization I’ve come to, much to the chagrin of my (rather pessimistic) 17-year-old self, is that this is okay.
When I fall off a peak and a trough seems inevitable, I just have to find my way to the next peak, and I would be happy again.
In other words, my happiness has everything to do with the stories I tell myself, and nothing to do with the stories that merely happen to me.
So back in October, when I was feeling rather sloppy at work and a little more lethargic than I was comfortable being, I decided to do something about it.
In fact, I decided to do nothing.
I packed my bags and went off to Indonesia. It was not a spontaneous decision, I had been planning my getaway for some time. But the logistics are unimportant, suffice to say that I witnessed some breathtaking landscapes and made friends with a number of remarkable people.
But most importantly, I relaxed. More than once I found my way to a sun-soaked beach, lay down on a wet beanbag on the hot sand, treated myself to a coconut, and did nothing.
But there’s more to this story. As I write this now I realize two important things:
One, there was no burnout. I didn’t need to take break. There was no impulse to get away. Only a seed of curious reckoning, a sense of wonder to truly experience an extended period of rest.
Two, I could afford to get away. I had the financial means. More importantly, I had a business partner who was willing to take care of every aspect of our small two-person business as I whiled away in merriment for three weeks. As irksome and tiring it must have been, he didn’t show it. This alone is an exercise in gratitude that needs doing.
I’m still an extraordinarily happy person. Possibly even happier now than I was before, now that I’ve convinced myself it doesn’t hurt to stop every once in a while, and do nothing.
