Yes. This… ‘something has changed’

Posted on by Live & Learn

How often have we heard it: Stay busy to make the most of the time we have left. But there’s a lot to be said for doing the opposite…

Several times during the past few months, I have found myself engaged in what has never been one of my strong suits—doing nothing.

The experience of doing nothing crept up on me this summer, surrounded by the stillness and quiet of our family cabin in southwestern Virginia. The hypnotic sound of the Maury River 100 feet away set the stage. Knowing that I wouldn’t be disturbed by friends or family while sitting on the back porch long before the sun came up added to the sensation of being free from interruption before the day began.

Nor was I planning the morning’s activities or concerned about wasting minutes or hours that could be better spent on a project. I wasn’t worried that time was passing; I had instead the unusual sensation that time was standing still.

It reminded me of the poet Carl Sandburg’s famous line: “The fog comes on little cat feet.”
Just like you can’t plan for fog, you can’t plan for doing nothing. But you can go to a place where not much happens and feel it slip silently in. The cabin was and is such a place for me. For others, it might be a religious or spiritual space, a blanket on the sand near the ocean, or a favorite chair next to a window.

As a writer and editor, I thrived for years on the need to meet deadlines and on the adrenaline of being praised or promoted for my work. For many people who were focused on their careers, doing nothing was never an option. The answer to “What are you up to?” was always an activity, an event, a new job. As I remember it, no one said, “Nothing.”

It took several years of being fully retired before I could frame this feeling of doing nothing as a new opportunity, an antidote to the expected busyness of retirement: traveling, writing, volunteering, socializing, taking care of grandchildren—all meaningful and done willingly—along with chores and checklists. I was following one of the most important commandments of retirement: Keep busy to stave off feelings of isolation or depression.

Even as I recognized the limitations of that prime directive, I initially felt a vague uneasiness about my appreciation of the virtue of doing nothing. Does it suggest aimless drift? Lack of imagination to come up with activities that make the most of my retirement years? The opposite of doing nothing—doing something—is always present in our lives. But I have come to realize that one doesn’t exclude the other. Rather, they are complementary.

What resonates most for me about doing nothing is the ability to let go of the external and even internal forces that define most of my days; to meditate without intentionally making it an “activity”; to see and hear things more clearly, not worrying about having to pass judgment on any thought that crosses my mind or wondering what follow-up might be necessary. It’s ceding control in a way that I have habitually worked against. It is not a timeout—more of a “time in” to a different way of seeing myself.

Earlier this summer, I read “This Is Happiness,” by Niall Williams, about a fictional Irish community in the mid-20th century where rain is a constant presence in the lives of the town’s poor residents, until it isn’t. “You don’t see rain stop, but you sense it,” he writes at one point. “You hear the quietness you thought was silence get quieter still, and you raise your head so your eyes can make sense of what your ears have already told you, which at first is only: something has changed.”

The quote describes more eloquently than my words how I felt that morning at the cabin when something for me had changed. It was the realization that in experiencing the peace that doing nothing brings, I could acknowledge quietly to myself, “This is happiness.”

— Robbie Shell, from “The Joy of Doing Nothing in Retirement” (wsj.com, Nov 18, 2025)

27 thoughts on “Yes. This… ‘something has changed’”

  1. There is a transition from working intensely and waking up one morning acutely aware that your to do list is empty. That the gazillion emails aren’t crowding your inbox. That the phone isn’t busy interrupting your day.

    I think you arrive at enjoyment – though it is tinged with an unease…what do you do with yourself when no one needs, sees, requires you. It took a while for me – and I’m not sure I’m there yet.

    4. Mimi, I hear you – same here, except that after many years of still working but w/o pay, a lot of writing and correspondence, and many activities, I confess to still getting more than my fair share of emails daily. The funny thing for me is that my phone doesn’t constantly ring, some days only for HH calling that he’s on his way back home, I do a great amount of online conversations, short, sweet, to the point, and I am very well informed and quick to respond w/o being required to be ‘there’ at all times. It’s SO liberating! Enjoy your retirement 🙂

      1. Thank you! It has been an adjustment for sure, but one I’m leaning into. I can keep myself very busy, and somehow the days pass at high speed. I take each day with gratitude (even when in a lousy mood). And I think that’s the ticket – being mindful of all the chapters in our personal story and value each of them. Happy Thanksgiving Kiki!

        1. YES to all of yours…. I found it a huge benefit to get older and ‘wiser’ – or maybe just more lenient, less demanding, more understanding. For me it’s a good time to be alive!

  2. I can understand this because if this is a point we’ll reach, I’m at that point. Although I found it very strange at first, I’m trying to get used to this change. It’s a beautifully expressed. I’ve even read it over and over again, experiencing it firsthand, and looking at the change from the author’s perspective. Thank you dear David, have a nice day, Love, nia

  3. yes, and it took me a bit to get to this point in retirement, and while I do stay involved in things, I really love honestly and unapologetically answering ‘I’m not sure, just nothing really.’ when someone asks what I did today. love this post. as I said to all who asked what my plans were when I announced I was retiring, (and much to some of their dismay,) I said, just to have time and freedom.

    3. I imagine, beth – i can feel it through your posts, and as much as i miss your stories with the kinder, i know how wonderful it is to be your very own person, day in day out. i also know that you are about as far for doing nothing as a cook who doesn’t like to eat!

  6. I only read this now, much after your posting. And guess what…. I prepared an English and German ‘Christmas Letter’ which I send to my far away friends (US; UK, F, G) with a card and to friends I don’t talk a lot throughout the year closer to home, I have boxes and stuff with Christmas cards, decorations, light strings and more EVERYWHERE – I went to bed at 1.30am this morning and when HH asked over breakfast: What did you do yesterday – I thought for a moment and said: I wrote four Xmas cards (with letters), went to gym, did the washing, but mostly I did nothing! And I meant it – it wasn’t to hint that I had a super busy day, because: I took the time to think, contemplate, unite my thoughts with the friends I wrote to, and although I was up wahaaaayyy beyond my reasonable bedtime, I was fresh and full of energy this morning…. I wholeheartedly am with this wonderful writer and can only recommend moments of ‘doing nothing’. I also feel daily über-privileged because I CAN do nothing if I wish – and the (business) world isn’t falling apart, life goes on for everybody. It’s a wonderful experience and I can recommend it to all 😉

  7. While I am not retired yet, I am ambling in that direction, and I can already sense it will be a journey. Balancing the inherent delight of dancing to a tune that you set for yourself with the satisfaction that comes from a sense of being integral to an enterprise will likely be an ongoing process. Every chapter of life brings opportunity and challenge, yes?

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