Doing nothing is still doing something

I was watching a movie the other night when they mentioned il dolce far niente—the sweetness of doing nothing. 

It immediately caught my attention. 

At first, it felt like a mirror reflecting the way I live life. No striving, no forcing, no need to push against the current. 

Just being. Just letting life move as it moves.

But then I noticed something.

The way they spoke about it, il dolce far niente was still a something. 

A practice, a choice, a lifestyle to embrace.

And while it sounds lovely (who doesn’t love the image of lounging in the sun, drink in hand, with absolutely nothing to do?), something about it felt… off.

Because even doing nothing can turn into an activity. 

And the moment it becomes something to practice, something to master, or something to get right, it turns into yet another thing to figure out.

Another way to wonder if you’re doing it wrong.

But it’s not about choosing stillness over movement, rest over action.

There’s no true opposite between doing and not doing.

Sometimes there’s motion.

Sometimes there’s stillness.

Neither means anything.

Neither is better.

Neither is the goal—because there isn’t one.

What if your real exhaustion isn’t coming from how much you do, but from the constant questioning of whether you’re doing it right? 

The moment you believe you’ve finally let go, the mind sneaks in with another layer:

‘Am I letting go the right way?’

And just like that, the cycle continues: searching for ease, but never quite arriving.

So yes—sip the espresso, soak in the stillness, let the sun warm your skin.

Enjoy the spaciousness when it arises.

But see that it was never missing.

There is nothing to grasp. Nothing to perfect.

Whatever is happening—action, rest, stillness, motion—is simply life happening.

Not something you need to plan or figure out. 

Doing nothing, doing something … it’s all the same in the end. 

It all flows from the same source: from life that’s living you.