The Art of Doing Nothing

A few years ago while sitting on a beach in Southern Italy, I noticed a man kicking a soccer ball down the shoreline. He kicked it a few feet at a time, nothing too strenuous, just a nice bit of play in the middle of a glorious sunny afternoon. It struck me as unusual that this man would take the time to do this. It was as if he had all the time in the world at his disposal and the only thing he cared about at that moment was kicking that soccer ball.  The explanation for his behavior then occurred to me. He had developed  the abilty to practice  l’arte di non fare niente. This is an Italian expression which translates as the art of doing nothing.


Ah, dolce far niente! It is also known as the sweetness of doing nothing. Now let's ponder this for a moment or two. Such poetic phrases aren't they? In the United States we refer to this as killing time, a crude and brutal term that implies wastefulness. Yes, we are a nation of overachievers and multi-taskers. Now don’t get me wrong, I can multi- task with the best of them, but every so often I think of that man, kicking that soccer ball,and I yearn for a little down time of my own.


A term such as the art of doing nothing, implies something more than sitting in a lazy boy in front of a television set.  It demands more from us. The art of doing nothing and doing it well could be realized in many ways.  For some it may be reached by drinking wine on the deck while listening to the cicadas or by lingering over several cups of coffee with an old friend.  No box wine or  instant coffee will do.  For some it may be accomplished by sipping tea by the fire, with a cat softly purring nearby, or  by watching a baby sleep. For others the art is practiced by taking the time to share a story or two with the locals at the market. People watching at the piazza, a swing at the park, and making animal creatures from play dough would all qualify.

I know what you are thinking. None of the above mentioned things are nothing and they are indeed something. L’arte di non fare niente implies spontaneity and doing a thing for nothing more that the pleasure of doing it. The man on the beach was not out to refine his technique, burn carbs or impress the ladies. He was kicking that ball for no other reason than the sheer enjoyment of his solitary movement along the water’s edge, and that my friends, is a beautiful thing.

Going Nowhere Fast

Life is good.  Even so, as I navigate through the grand buffet of the good life, it can be tricky.  Lingering too long can take it's toll. Some choices must be made along the way.  In order to stay in the game for the long run, some time must be carved out to take care of ourselves.     

As part of the my treat myself better plan, I decided to head to the gym to take in a spinning class. For those of you who have never taken part in such a class, the concept is simple. It starts with a darkened room filled with a bunch of strangers on stationary bikes. Together with these nameless, faceless individuals, you all ride your a—s off, accompanied by extremely loud music. There is typically a gray haired man in full biking regalia at the front of the room shouting commands and words of encouragement into a microphone that is mounted to his face.

It really isn’t so bad and he does try to keep you from going crazy by having you stand up and sit down more times than the attendees at a Catholic wedding. Then of course there are your fellow participants that shout out the occasional Apache war cry or howl at the moon.  I am not kidding!  They actually do this! I did mention that it was dark. This has a double benefit. The lack of light prevents others from observing the belly roll that has formed as one crouches over the handle bars.  It also gives the rider a strange sense of obscurity, and allows everyone to feel free to look and sound ridiculous for the full forty five minute period.

Why would I choose to spend my time staring at a bunch of sweaty back sides bouncing up and down as I hide in the back row?  Because I realize that I finally need to do penance for all of the pasta, wine and song that I have enjoyed for the past three decades or so.  Now I don’t plan on giving up pasta, wine, or song anytime soon. I’ve been a party girl from way back and though the party ends a little earlier these days, I plan to carry on.  However, as I find myself at fifty, I have vowed to turn over a new leaf or two. A few days a week I vow to join the ranks of the peddlers and steppers. I pledge to move this old bod of mine a bit more often as we strut to the oldies, run in circles, climb stairs and ride bikes that go nowhere. Who knows, maybe I’ll even grow to like it.

Probably not.