#241: do nothing poems 😌

Hi.

I had a mini revelation recently: to flip the narrative from ‘nothing to do’ to ‘time to do nothing’.

So today, I’m just going to leave you with a few poems that capture this lovely idea, which I’m going trying and practise myself. Read these when you have time to do nothing. If you like. Preferably at leisure. No presh.

Art by Anton Faistauer

I'm Sitting Doing Nothing by Jack Prelutsky

I’m sitting doing nothing,
which I do extremely well.
Exactly how I do it
is impossible to tell.
I scarcely move a muscle,
but serenely stay in place,
not even slightly changing
the expression on my face.

I’m fond of doing nothing,
so I do it all day long.
Wherever I do nothing,
I don’t ever do it wrong.
When I am doing nothing,
there is nothing that I do,
for if I started something,
it would mean that I was through.

When I am doing nothing,
I’m immobile as a wall.
When I am doing nothing
I don’t do a thing at all.
It’s easy doing nothing
and I find it lots of fun,
though when I’m finally finished
I’m uncertain that I’m done.

Today, When I Could Do Nothing by Jane Hirshfield

Today, when I could do nothing,
I saved an ant.

It must have come in with the morning paper,
still being delivered
to those who shelter in place.

A morning paper is still an essential service.

I am not an essential service.

I have coffee and books,
time,
a garden,
silence enough to fill cisterns.

It must have first walked
the morning paper, as if loosened ink
taking the shape of an ant.

Then across the laptop computer—warm—
then onto the back of a cushion.

Small black ant, alone,
crossing a navy cushion,
moving steadily because that is what it could do.

Set outside in the sun,
it could not have found again its nest.
What then did I save?

It did not move as if it was frightened,
even while walking my hand,
which moved it through swiftness and air.

Ant, alone, without companions,
whose ant-heart I could not fathom—
how is your life, I wanted to ask.

I lifted it, took it outside.

This first day when I could do nothing,
contribute nothing
beyond staying distant from my own kind,
I did this.

Art: Cloud Study by John Constable

Clouds Gathering by Charles Simic

It seemed the kind of life we wanted.
Wild strawberries and cream in the morning.
Sunlight in every room.
The two of us walking by the sea naked.

Some evenings, however, we found ourselves
Unsure of what comes next.
Like tragic actors in a theater on fire,
With birds circling over our heads,
The dark pines strangely still,
Each rock we stepped on bloodied by the sunset.

We were back on our terrace sipping wine.
Why always this hint of an unhappy ending?
Clouds of almost human appearance
Gathering on the horizon, but the rest lovely
With the air so mild and the sea untroubled.

The night suddenly upon us, a starless night.
You lighting a candle, carrying it naked
Into our bedroom and blowing it out quickly.
The dark pines and grasses strangely still.

made me giggle (via)

Lazy Raven by Kyle Hammer

A lazy raven,
Walks across a fast paced road,
Why does he not fly?

A Doing Nothing Poem by Robert Bly

After walking about all afternoon
Barefoot, in my shack,
I have grown long and transparent . . .
Like the sea slug
Who has lived alone doing nothing
For eighteen thousand years.

Lazy Jane by Shel Silverstein

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Off to bed with these this thought:

“I do nothing. and the world appears.”
-from Zen poems

Good night, dear reader. Please make time to do nothing.

Bonne nuit,
Rohini