What meditation can teach us about rest, stillness and our constant need to be productive.

There is something I have been noticing more and more.

The moment we stop doing something, we start feeling that we should be doing something.

If we are not working, maybe we should answer messages.

If there are no messages, maybe we should exercise.

If we are not exercising, perhaps we should learn something, listen to a podcast, plan tomorrow, clean the house or somehow make better use of our time.

And when there is finally nothing to do, the hand almost automatically reaches for the phone.

I see something similar when people begin meditation.

Simply sitting quietly for 20 minutes can feel surprisingly difficult.

Not because we don’t know how to sit.

Perhaps we have simply forgotten how to be without doing.

Were Human Beings Always This Busy?

For most of human history, there were no emails, notifications, calendars filled with appointments or endless lists of things to complete.

Of course, life was not easy.

Hunter-gatherer communities had to find food, make tools, care for children, maintain shelter and respond to an environment that could be unpredictable and dangerous.

So I don’t think we should romanticise the past.

But their relationship with time seems to have been different from ours.

Anthropologists studying hunter-gatherer communities have observed that life included not only practical work, but also long periods of conversation, storytelling, singing, dancing, socialising and ritual.

One study that particularly stayed with me looked at the Ju/’hoansi people of southern Africa.

Anthropologist Polly Wiessner studied their conversations during the day and around the fire at night.

She noticed something beautiful.

When the Day Ended, Something Changed

During the daytime, conversations were often practical.

People talked about food, relationships, problems within the community and things that needed attention.

But when evening came and people gathered around the fire, the atmosphere changed.

There was more storytelling.

More music.

More dancing.

More ceremony.

People remembered events from the past and talked about people who were not physically present.

The practical world slowly gave way to imagination, connection and meaning.

I find this fascinating.

Because once the immediate tasks of the day were finished, people did not necessarily ask:

What else can I accomplish today?

They gathered.

They listened.

They told stories.

They sat around a fire.

From our modern perspective, we might call some of this time “unproductive.”

But perhaps it wasn’t unproductive at all.

Perhaps something important happens when human beings have space in which nothing needs to be achieved.

Today, Almost Every Empty Moment Has Been Filled

Think about an ordinary day.

We wake up and check our phones.

We listen to something while getting ready.

We work while moving between messages, emails and different applications.

We eat while watching something.

We stand in a queue and reach for the phone.

We sit in a taxi and scroll.

We go to bed and scroll again.

There are fewer and fewer moments when we are simply somewhere.

Waiting.

Walking.

Eating.

Sitting.

Watching.

Listening.

Almost every empty space has found something to fill it.

And after living this way for years, silence can start to feel uncomfortable.

Even Wellness Can Become Another Form of Productivity

I find this particularly interesting in the wellness world.

Sometimes even the things we practise to become calmer become another list of achievements.

Did I meditate today?

How long did I meditate?

Did I exercise?

Did I journal?

Did I do my breathing practice?

How many steps did I walk?

How was my sleep score?

Am I becoming a better version of myself?

There is nothing wrong with these things.

I teach meditation and breathwork because practices and structure can genuinely help us.

But there is something deeper that meditation has continued to teach me:

You don’t always have to improve this moment.

Sometimes the practice is allowing this moment to be exactly as it is.

You Don’t Always Have to Improve This Moment

Sit quietly for a moment.

Feel the body.

Notice that you are breathing.

Listen to whatever sounds are around you.

Perhaps there is wind.

A bird.

Traffic somewhere in the distance.

Your own breathing.

Maybe thoughts are moving quickly through your mind.

Let them move.

You don’t have to create silence.

You don’t have to become peaceful.

You don’t have to reach a special state.

And you certainly don’t have to become a perfect meditator.

For a few moments, nothing needs to happen next.

That sounds incredibly simple.

But in a world constantly asking us,

“What are you doing next?”

simply being here can become a profound practice.

“My Mind Is Too Busy to Meditate”

I hear this quite often.

“My mind is too active.”

“I can’t stop thinking.”

“I don’t think meditation works for me.”

But meditation is not necessarily about stopping your thoughts.

When we sit quietly, we often discover how much activity was already happening inside us.

Plans.

Memories.

Imaginary conversations.

Something somebody said yesterday.

Something we need to do tomorrow.

The meditation did not create those thoughts.

It simply gave us enough silence to notice them.

And underneath all those thoughts, we may discover something else.

An almost unconscious belief that every moment needs to have a purpose.

We divide our lives into productive time and wasted time.

A good day and an unproductive day.

Success and failure.

But not every moment of being alive needs to produce a result.

Meditation Is Sometimes Remembering

The more I practise and teach meditation, the more I feel that meditation is not always about learning something new.

Sometimes it feels more like remembering something we already know.

Remembering how to sit.

How to listen.

How to feel the breath.

How to notice the body.

How to watch the sky without needing to photograph it.

How to walk without needing something playing in our ears.

How to have a conversation without checking a screen.

How to experience something without immediately thinking about how we can share it.

How to be alone without immediately looking for distraction.

These are incredibly simple things.

Yet perhaps simplicity is exactly what we are losing.

We Don’t Need to Reject Modern Life

I don’t believe the answer is to throw away our phones, quit our jobs and try to recreate some imagined ancient way of living.

Technology has given us extraordinary possibilities.

We can communicate across the world.

We have access to knowledge previous generations could never have imagined.

Modern medicine saves lives.

I am writing this on technology, and you are probably reading it on a screen.

Technology itself is not the problem.

The question is whether we still have the freedom to put it down.

Can I use my phone without automatically reaching for it every time there is an empty moment?

Can I work toward something without believing my worth depends on how much I accomplish?

Can I enjoy activity while still being comfortable with stillness?

Can I rest without feeling guilty?

That, for me, is where meditation becomes very practical.

Try Doing Nothing for 10 Minutes

You don’t need a complicated meditation technique for this.

Sometime today, find ten minutes.

Put your phone somewhere you cannot easily reach it.

Don’t play music.

Don’t listen to a podcast.

Don’t even use a guided meditation.

Sit somewhere comfortable.

Outside is wonderful if you have the opportunity.

Then simply notice.

Feel your breathing.

Listen to the sounds around you.

Feel your body sitting.

Notice the light.

Notice your thoughts.

At some point you may experience an urge to do something.

You might want to check your phone.

You may remember something you need to complete.

You might think:

“This is a waste of time.”

Notice that thought too.

Don’t fight it.

Don’t judge it.

Just remain there.

Ten minutes.

Nothing to accomplish.

Nowhere else you need to be.

Perhaps We Have Forgotten How to Stop

Human beings have always worked.

We have always created, solved problems, built things and tried to improve our lives.

I don’t think ambition is the enemy.

But humans have also gathered around fires.

We have told stories.

We have sung.

We have danced.

We have watched sunsets.

We have sat silently.

We have rested.

We have spent time together without needing every minute to produce something.

Maybe our problem is not that we are doing too much.

Maybe somewhere along the way, we forgot how to stop.

Meditation gives us a small opportunity to remember.

Not how to become someone else.

Not how to achieve another goal.

But how to come back to ourselves.

To sit inside our own life for a moment and realise:

Nothing needs to be added to this breath.

A Small Invitation

If this article resonates with you, try giving yourself those ten quiet minutes today.

And if sitting with yourself feels difficult, that is also okay. You don’t need to figure meditation out alone.

Through my meditation and breathwork sessions, I help people slow down, understand their inner experience and gradually develop a practice that can become part of everyday life.

Sometimes the journey doesn’t begin by doing more.

Sometimes it begins by stopping long enough to listen.

Breathe. Notice. Come back to yourself.