Imagine your perfect day. Better yet, dare yourself to imagine your perfect week, month, or year. Would you do the things you were supposed to do, or the things you wanted to do? It’s safe to say very few would provide an answer to this question containing the word “work,” unless it was “work on my novel” or “work on my abs.”
Comedian John Mulaney has a bit about canceling plans:
“It’s so much easier not to do things than to do them, that you would do anything is totally remarkable. Percentage-wise, it is 100% easier not to do things than to do them. And so much fun not to do them, especially when you are supposed to do them.”
The raw truth of this bit hits me each time I hear it. Compare a day when you have nothing planned, and you get to spend it however you wish.
Now, imagine a day filled with obligations and tasks…then, cancel them. Poof. Gone.
That day with the canceled plans is going to be so much more fun than the day when you didn’t have any plans, despite the fact that the days have exactly 24 hours — no more, no less.
We love doing … stuff. Spending time with friends is so rewarding. Accomplishing tasks fills us with a sense of pride. Productivity makes us feel good, like we are pulling our weight in this world, helping things advance forward. But if we go too long without throwing in a free day every so often … things go haywire fast.
But somewhere along the way, we were sold the misguided notion that we have to accomplish all the things, every day, all the time, forever and ever. Somehow we got the message that not doing things was unproductive, lazy, and bad. So why does it feel so good?
Almost every religion and every social construct is built around the same model: work, fulfill your obligations, but then rest. The idea of a sabbath or sabbatical is not new, but we forget that resting is something to be built into our lives; something to practice, like a ritual we must intentionally make space for.
Without it, everything around it is diminished. We are tired, burnt out, unfocused, and resentful. Without rest, we don’t give our best. Rest is just as vital as a full gas tank, a charged battery, or a cool rain on parched plants. We are living things, but we place machine-like expectations on humans. The mental clarity brought on by letting the mind breathe, while also feeling as though we’re getting away with something? Intoxicating.
Canceling plans and resting…It feels like cheating a little bit, which is maybe why it feels so good. Being even the slightest bit naughty gives a rush of serotonin/adrenaline that mimics the feeling I had when, at 6 years old, I managed to silently slide a chair up beside the counter in order to carefully remove the lid of the cookie jar. With a cookie in one hand, I closed the lid silently with my other hand, moving in painstakingly tiny increments. In the next room, my mother watched the evening news, completely unaware that I had already retreated to another corner of the house to eat the pilfered cookie. The cookies I ate in the dark tasted oh so much sweeter and richer than the same cookie that was handed to me in the daylight.
I guess that’s what I’m saying: canceled plans are the taste of a pilfered cookie. A stolen kiss. Forbidden fruit.
Resting isn’t a crime, but maybe it’s good that we sometimes feel guilty for resting. If rest feels fairly earned instead of illicit, where’s the satisfaction? Where’s the thrill?
Next time you cancel plans, take note of your body. Will you noticeably feel your shoulders relax, your stomach untighten? What will you do with this precious time, unintentionally unearthed from beneath the heavy weight of productivity?
Choose how to spend that time wisely! On second thought, do the opposite! Squander as many minutes as you can. Trifle away the hours and waste the day. Feel that wonderful, exhilarating, unexpected rush that washes over you while you intentionally don’t do that thing you were totally supposed to do.
