THERE IS AN ART TO DOING NOTHING. . .
N O T H I N G
that means, not listening to music or doodling or meditating or yoga or breath work or daydreaming or conniving or scheming or once-upon-a-timing or, Or, OR, ORRING
N O T H I N G
HUGE STACKED BOXES OF
n o t h i n g
. . .and so when I recently read I WANT TO BE UNPRODUCTIVE, a little piece from Danielle Coffyn, who has ever reason to be doing everything but NOTHING. Danielle is a writer, mother, teacher, mental health advocate, eating disorder survivor, and outdoor enthusiast. She started her poetry account @musingsonbeing in 2021 where she worked through her perfectionism by sharing rough drafts of her work. Her main themes include healing, feminism, rewilding, mental health, and reclaiming the body. She is a co-founder of The Superbloom Society, a community for anyone looking to build authentic, intentional connection through writing workshops and retreats.
I WANT TO BE UNPRODUCTIVE
to ponder the meaning of yellow. to listen as summer cicadas sing their final symphony of the season. to dine with friends. to savor course after course. to inhale the scent of San Marzano tomatoes bathed in balsamic brine. to taste vanilla bean gelato and espresso marry on my tongue. to study the morning habits of a neighborhood robin. to plunge blistered toes into sun-ripened sand. to float in the sea. to feel my heartbeat slow to the rhythm of the tide. to memorize the laugh lines of a California redwood. to spend a morning rereading stories from childhood. to determine which song most resembles a honey bee collecting lavender pollen. to observe a spider spinning her web. to chart freckled constellations along my child’s spine. to taste test every croissant in the city. to rest for the sole purpose of slowing down. to savor stillness. to allow myself the gift of being.
WE ALL KNOW WHERE TO GET OUR WAX. . .
but the best is when you do a
coming to the WICK
instead of the candle chasing it in the wind. . .