Slow Down, Sleep In, Take a Nap.
In praise of the laze
“Keepin’ busy?”
I hear this question often, from clients, friends, strangers. I know what they want to hear. They want to hear me say yes. The word “busy,” when used in relation to work, connotes success.
Isn’t that ironic? If you’re busy, it means you’re making money, you would guess. But it also means you’re too busy to enjoy spending the money you make. When we think of princes, celebrities and tycoons, we think of people who can sit on a recliner on the beach sipping margaritas, don’t we?
I’m a Bohemian. I do not like being busy. I love it when I have time to talk to my neighbors, cook curry coconut shrimp soup, and smoke a cigar. That’s the whole reason I make money — so I can enjoy it. When someone asks me if I’m busy, and I am busy, I screw up my nose and say, “Yeah. But I hope to have some time to myself soon.”
Play hookey.
Do you feel guilty if you’re not working?
One of my colleagues said when I caught him taking a trip to the Mont Tremblant ski resort, “I’m playing hookey.”
This idea is a direct leftover from school days, when we had this feeling our education was for the teacher and principal, not for us. Taking the day off, like Ferris Bueller, was irresponsible.
I agree with Richard Eyre who wrote the book Don’t just do something: sit there. Keep work in its place and don’t let it dominate your life. Play hookey and don’t feel guilty about it. Nobody will suffer, and you will benefit. If you’re an employee, take every sick day you can get, and don’t pile them up for a vacation. It won’t do you any good to have a vacation when you’re in the hospital nursing a Pacemaker or implanting hair on your bald spot. Smart employers know that a healthy employee is far more productive than a stressed employee. If you’re an entrepreneur like me, take as many days or afternoons off as you can.
I sometimes take three weeks off between contracts. Sometimes two months.
I use the time for all kinds of things I enjoy, that don’t cost money. I take long, lazy baths in Epsom salts and lavender. I browse bookstores and read books. I visit my family and play with my nieces and nephews. I take walks in the park. I meet people and reacquaint myself with old friends or colleagues. I re-organize my house and my spice cabinet. I visit art galleries. I eat in little cafes in small towns. I watch movies and eat popcorn. I watch football. I tour a Niagara winery. I visit my kids’ school and share a coffee with their teachers and principals. I take my kids to see a play at Little Theatre downtown.
And I have no idea where my next contract is coming from.
Sometimes when a client calls, out of the blue, I’m sitting in the bath or at the Farmers Market enjoying the live Calypso band, or dangling my bare feet in the cool waters by the fountain in the sunshine as I sip a French roast with my cinnamon bun. Other times I’m by the old mill by the river, propped inside what used to be a window, watching a blue heron stand motionless in the water waiting for a fish to slip by and become its next meal.
Why would anyone feel guilty about that?
Slow down, you move too fast.
Why are you in such a hurry?
How fast do you walk from your car to the building entrance? How fast do you walk from your office to your water cooler? How fast do you run from your office to the bus station? If you’re a restaurant server, take special note: when you zoom past my table, my napkin gets caught in the backwind and falls on the floor. And I can’t get your attention to ask for another glass of Cedar Creek Proprietor’s Red.
One day, years ago, I realized how fast I was walking. I stopped in my tracks and asked myself, “What’s the hurry?” The second question was, “If I take lazier steps, will I get there any later?” It might make a difference of a few seconds.
When I slowed down my pace, something interesting happened. People started to respond to me differently. I had to try it a few times to make sure it wasn’t a fluke. In the mall retailers didn’t descend on me like vultures. They just watched me for a few minutes and let me browse. In the middle of the city, visitors zero in on me and ask me for directions. When I walk down the sidewalk, guys no longer whistle and throw me lewd propositions. They move aside to let me pass, and just watch me.
Try it and see what happens. You’ll start feeling groovy and your heart rate will settle down.
Find a sofa for 30 minutes.
Here’s a big no-no. But I say yes-yes. Take naps. Take them whenever you can.
I’m lucky I have inherited an important talent from my dad. I can sleep anywhere. I don’t mean resting with eyes closed. I mean completely unconscious. I can turn off like a light for 15 minutes and wake up refreshed and ready to go.
I take frequent naps. The idea of working during the day for seven or eight hours strikes me as truly unjust. The human body is not meant to pull off this routine. We North Americans have not yet figured this out, but many other cultures have long recognized and respected it. The Mediterraneans and South and Latin Americans all understand the importance of a siesta, when the midday beckons us into quietness and shade. They work through our typical suppertime, because they have more energy. Studies show this habit increases productivity, across the board.
I always feel like a nap soon after lunch — even if it’s a small lunch and I had a good sleep last night. In fact, as I’m writing this it is 1:45 pm and I want a couch. Just for 30 minutes.
If your business requires a lot of brainwork, processing volumes of information and manipulating it in different ways, you probably need more sleep than someone whose daily work is very physical. Ideas can tire you out. I remember in all the years I was in university, how I used to have two or three naps every day. While I was sleeping, my brain was re-organizing everything I just read or wrote.
Sleep in.
Do you think of a lion as lazy? A lion sleeps for 18 hours every day. Do you think of yourself as lazy if you take a nap in the afternoon or play hookey? A cicada burrows in the roots of a deciduous tree for up to 17 years before it emerges to lull us into August with its electric mating trill — for ten days. Ten days. They disappear for 17 years and then live for ten days. So sleep in, for heaven’s sake. Work can wait.
