The wisdom of doing nothing

Ancient techniques prove that stillness, presence, and purposeful pauses create clarity, balance, and creativity, writes Reji Varghese

We live in an age where busyness is worn like a designer label — the modern measure of worth. “I’m swamped,” we say, often with a kind of reluctant pride, as though exhaustion were a merit badge. Results. Execution. Hustle. If you’re not rushing, you’re falling behind.

Meanwhile, in less frenetic corners of our world, among Laozi’s ancient teachings or the gentle rhythms of rural Holland, different voices offer another kind of understanding. They speak of being present rather than being productive, of finding the right pace rather than peak performance. They ask not what you are doing. But what are you not doing?

In ancient China, the idea was called ‘wu wei’ — effortless action, or action aligned so harmoniously with nature that it feels like no action at all. Sadia Saeed, a psychologist and founder of a counselling firm, says, “Often mistaken as doing nothing, wu wei actually is about doing whatever comes your way. It is about resting when rest comes along and acting when action is needed. In that sense, you are not rejecting the present or rejecting anything life brings to you.”

“It seems an easy concept, but it needs practice. The practice of being present and of accepting what is is fundamental. The benefit is that we don’t waste our energy in rejection or in fighting against what is happening. Often, what we want to happen dominates what is happening. With wu wei, you practise acceptance. If your task is hard, you accept it, and if it is restful, you accept that too. That keeps life in balance”, Sadia adds.

In the Netherlands, niksen, which means “doing nothing” or “idleness”, is the practice of engaging in activities without a specific purpose, allowing for relaxation. It’s not inactivity, but deliberately doing something that requires minimal effort, letting the mind wander and reset.

Sadia says, “Doing nothing on purpose has two evident benefits, but also a subtle one. The evident benefits are a stress-free environment in which your nervous system can regulate, and the space it creates that is crucial for creativity.”

“However, when you know how to be in an unstructured environment by yourself, your friendship with your own self can grow. Your self-awareness develops, and for some sensitive people, it can be the beginning of a fruitful relationship with oneself,” she says.

Both wu wei and niksen are radical rejections of the modern cult of doing — and together, they point toward a leadership model that prioritises clarity over chaos, stillness over speed, and intuition over incessant intervention.

Beyond the illusion of busyness

We’ve mistaken movement for meaning. Avrril Quadros, a multifunctional therapist and life coach, says, “Corporate corridors and social media feeds echo with a shared myth - that to be overwhelmed is to be important. But as studies on burnout, anxiety, and cognitive fatigue mount — particularly among millennial and Gen Z professionals — a quieter truth emerges - busyness is not a badge, it’s often a bypass — away from presence, away from purpose.”

What wu wei and niksen remind us is that value doesn’t always come from speed. Value often arrives in silence — in the pause between meetings, in the view outside a window, in that moment of “doing nothing” when the mind, freed from expectation, stumbles onto real insight.

The paradox of productive indolence

The Dutch psychologist Doreen Dodgen-Magee describes niksen as a kind of mental idling — like a car engine running while parked. Just awareness. The space where the subconscious begins to stretch its legs.

Sandi Mann’s research in the UK finds that such intentional idleness — where daydreaming flourishes — enhances problem-solving and creativity. Manfred Kets de Vries, a professor at INSEAD, suggests it improves leadership by restoring clarity. “It takes you out of your mind,” he says, “and then you see things clearly after a while.”

Similarly, wu wei teaches that wisdom doesn’t come from forcing outcomes, but from knowing when to let go. Avril says, “Just as the river bends around rocks without struggle, the wisest leaders move with, not against, the current. They wait. They listen. They let time ripen a situation before stepping in. They act, yes — but never prematurely, never out of anxiety.”

The implications for leadership are profound. When executives learn to trust not only their people but the processes unfolding around them, something shifts. Meetings become more about meaning than minutes. Breaks are no longer seen as gaps in productivity, but as wombs from which innovation is born.

The challenge is cultural. In an economy that valorises output, it takes courage to do less. Niksen may be met with suspicion. Wu wei may sound like indifference. But this discomfort is the growing pain of transformation.

Practical stillness in a noisy world

Avril says, “To begin, start small. A five-minute pause between tasks. A walk without a podcast. Look out the window without labelling it ‘slacking.” Reorganise your workspaces to allow for stillness — a cushion by a sunlit corner, a chair not facing a screen. Give your schedule what it never asks for: breathing room. And most crucially, own your stillness. When asked what you’re doing on a break, say it plainly: “Nothing.” No qualifiers, no apologies.”

Let yourself be bored. Let your thoughts wander. That’s where the mind stops reacting and starts integrating. And it’s in those integrations — often invisible, unplanned, spontaneous — where strategy is born.

Leadership in the coming decades may not belong to the most aggressive executor or the always-on achiever. It may belong to those who know how to pause. Wu Wei and Niksen offer us more than exotic philosophies. They offer a map — out of burnout, out of freneticism — and back into the quiet intelligence of natural rhythm, back into balance.

Because sometimes, the most powerful thing a leader can do is nothing at all.