I Hate Nothing

I used to hate how blank my thoughts were. Sometimes I’d just have nothing on my mind. Literally nothing. While some may say that nothing is something, I actually agree. The feeling of nothingness, is in of itself a remedy to many concerns we have in our life. As a kid, something would always be on my mind, something trivial, but seemingly important at the moment. If I hadn’t felt anything at that moment, if I hadn’t thought about anything, I’d be worried that I was growing more stupid. Then, without that mental activity, I’d pause my interaction with the world, and subsequently fall into a state of idleness that wasn’t utilizing my time well.
This spawned from how my dad would often ask me repeatedly, are you doing something meaningful? Most of the time I’d have to lie to him and say yes, but even so, the words would silently drive my internal desire to always be productively doing something, rather than an inactive consumption of resources. To this day, I still somewhat struggle with keeping myself unnecessarily busy, rather than taking a moment to pause and allow myself to rest.
But this mental model could only go so far. I found myself sacrificing my mental and physical health through excessive work rates that would diminish the marginal returns of each input of energy for output of satisfaction. I remember last year how I hated the feeling of going to sleep before 10pm, because it felt like I could have used the hours after to finish something else. In fact, this is nearly identical to how I felt like thinking nothing prevented me from growing in any way.
Last year, there was a defining moment where I finally turned around and accepted the fact that my time doesn’t always need to be spent doing something. One evening I returned home pretty late after soccer practice, and I asked my mom what she did to reactivate her problem-solving abilities, especially in moments where they were needed. I had been struggling with zoning out in the middle of class, during exams, or just randomly for long periods of time. She simply replied: “the lack of conscious inputs is time for the unconscious to process them.” I paused and just said “OK”, because quite honestly, I had no clue what she meant.
Then, over the next few weeks, I started to understand the deeper truth behind her statement. I realized that inactivity isn’t actually regression, but sometimes progression. In the proper context, say after a running workout, proper rest and recuperation is necessary for the body to grow beyond the current state. The growth doesn’t happen during the workout, but overnight from a good night's sleep. Similarly, my mind doesn’t always need to be at peak capacity, but can be idle at moments when it begins to overheat.
So today, I see this state of nothingness as a blessing, not a curse. If I have nothing on my mind, I can truly rest and feel as if the world has paused. Not having to worry about anything, not having any concerns about any current moment, is how I interpret ignorance is bliss. Of course, this bliss can’t last forever, but in that brief moment in time, it truly feels liberating. It’s not a sign of reversion, but a reflection of growth.
Nowadays, I make some time throughout the day to just sit in silence, clear my mind, and live free from any external distractions–a silent meditation for my mind to reset. Whether I bring my dog on a walk, go for a short run, sit on the couch without any entertainment, I cherish these moments to allow myself to conjure nothing at all while everything else begins to settle in place.