Doing Nothing, in a Good Way

A few days into the new year, my daughter decided to make her room look less cluttered and more grown-up. She had some birthday money, so we went looking for a few things that might, in her words, “be good for vibing.” If you don’t have a newly-minted teenager, allow mine to explain vibing: “It’s like hanging out and doing nothing, but in a good way.”

She found twinkle lights, a tiny plant, a fuzzy pillow, and a… giant sign. My daughter stood before me holding a canvas wall-hanging that said, “Go out there and be AMAZING.”

“Are you sure you want that?” I asked, hoping she would say no.

“I sort of like it.”

“What does the message mean to you?”

“I dunno... be amazing at things. Be good at stuff.”

I didn’t tell her, but the sign made me cringe (to use another of her favorite words.) Thankfully, she found something she liked better.

As I put the sign back on the shelf, I wondered how, exactly, a person would practice its message. Today I will wake up and be amazing! What does that even mean? I need actionable verbs, like: Today I will be kind, generous, patient, focused, peaceful. But amazing? It’s so… high-pressure in a generic way. And yet this messaging is everywhere.

Look at these lines from recent Nike ads:

What can you do today to be better than yesterday?

Do things history could only dream of.

Don’t become the best basketball player on the planet. Be bigger than basketball.

Don’t try to be the fastest runner in your school or the fastest runner in the world. Be the fastest ever.

Seriously? The fastest ever? Let me just add that to my To-Do list for the day: Get snacks for J’s game, put away laundry, finish reports, take Rexy to vet, be fastest runner ever.

This pressure, to be the best at everything, is exhausting. If that wall-hanging had said, "Go out there and be" I would have bought it.

It seems everywhere we look we’re told our dreams aren’t big enough. The current apple of America's eye is grit. If you're not successful, it's because you're not passionate enough, resilient enough, self-disciplined enough—you're blowing it because you're lazy. You lack grit. I reject this, as we all should. Truth is, people do work hard. We don't need to work more, we need to wonder more and become lost in the beauty of this world, and in the beauty of those we love.

The generic call to "greatness" puts too much focus on external results—the weight loss, a promotion, the new car, a bigger house. It's the "McMansioning" of the American mind: You've got a perfectly fine three-bedroom, two-bath house with a yard and a pool, but we're conditioned to think it's not enough. Tear it down. Build something bigger and better. Maybe you've got a nice life, maybe it's quiet and simple with happiness sprinkled here and there, but the pressure to iterate, to refine and improve, prevents you from ever being in the moment. A life that's under constant construction is exhausting and anxiety-ridden.

Last week I saw an ad for one of those "Build Your Followers" courses and it made my stomach lurch. "Don't Wait! Make 2022 your year to shine!" Building followers sounds like construction-talk to me. Can't we just pick up followers as we go, sort of like a stream when it carries branches as it flows. And what if I don't want to shine? What if I just want to vibe, to hang out, doing nothing, but in a good way—as my daughter says.

My goal this year is to do the opposite of that sign. I will vibe. With a book, with some coffee, with my dogs on my bed, or on a walk with my daughter, going nowhere specific. Enough with this pressure to be something other than who we are, where we are.

For most of history, very few people expected extraordinary wealth and mass celebrity. Most just wanted a sense of well-being in work, in health, in love, and in community. That sounds doable. More doable than a generic call to greatness.

This year's resolution is shaping up to be the best ever.