Anxiety is the enemy of contemplation. Anxiety turns our minds in on itself, and spreads tension throughout the body.

Our society is built upon anxiety. The powerful agitate and provoke our anxieties so that we will live reactively, not generatively—so that we push ourselves to succeed according to the norms of our society: those potent myths of meritocracy and the American Dream. Or so that we will live fearfully avoiding destitution, precarity, and total alienation.

Dominant systems of capitalism, white supremacy, patriarchy all feed off of our striving and fear. They want us to be anxious so that we can remain locked into the dominating social script.

We need to rebel, to resist the tyranny of anxiety, to challenge the powerful systems that stir anxiety up within us—so that we might cultivate inner spaciousness, generativity, and allow ourselves the pleasure of imagining an entirely different way of living and moving and being in this world.

One way we can cultivate such spaciousness is by doing absolutely nothing—or close to it—to let go of the driving thoughts, the need to do and accomplish. This sort of interior spaciousness comes when we relinquish the pressure of a thousand little “oughts.”

Doing nothing is sacred inaction. An inaction that allows something new to emerge.

The Dutch have a concept called niksen. Niksen means doing nothing. Or doing something without any real use or purpose.

One might be tempted to think, “well, I do a lot of nothing all the time.” But such an assumption is likely wrong.

Niksen isn’t about laying on the couch with a bag of Cheetos as you watch Netflix. It isn’t about going on a walk. It isn’t about doing anything. It is about doing nothing.

It isn’t mindfulness, where you actively engage your awareness on what is in front of you or focus on the present moment. Rather, it is about setting aside space and time just to be—to let your body relax and let your mind wander wherever it will.

Technically, you can do stuff while embracing niksen. But only the sorts of stuff you can do mindlessly. Like knitting. Or sitting on the toilet. Or shifing your weight in a rocking chair.

Niksen is about pure relaxation, the sort without expectation. Niksen is the sort of relaxation that could cause an unintentional nap without feeling any guilt whatsoever. In a world where stress is an epidemic leading to all sorts of health issues, doing nothing at all is a precious gift.

It’s ok if you find your mind racing; it is impossible to shut off your brain. Even if you had the power to still your waking mind, the back of your mind remains busy. By resting your engaged mind, you create space for all manner of breakthroughs. Some of our best thinking happens when we aren’t thinking.

Where to start? Just sit there and look out the window and let your mind wander. That’s it. That is the heart of niksen.

People have noisy minds. A cacophony of voices ring in our brains. Insistent voices. One of the loudest of those voices tells us things like “your success defines you.” Or “you are what you do.” Or “your value is wrapped up in what you accomplish.”

And so it is that many of us push ourselves to complete tasks that, if we are honest with ourselves, don’t bring us much joy at all.

Sure, there are necessary tasks in life. In a society like ours, many of us will end up destitute if we don’t complete some basic tasks. Including work tasks.

There are also extra-curricular tasks that we push ourselves to do for a

variety of reasons. We have a picture in our minds of what success looks like and we try to conform to that picture.

But in the midst of striving, we can lose touch with the things that give us joy or peace.

In our drivenness, we prioritize success over family or friends.

We push ourselves to care for others’ needs even as our bodies cry out for rest.

We do extra work to stay in the good graces of our bosses—extra work without extra pay—even though we suspect they don’t notice.

We do this, in part, because we believe that the point of our lives is work. The point of our lives is accomplishment and success.

There are so many tasks to accomplish. So much to do that we need help.

Which is why there is a sickening amount of to-do apps, productivity software, motivational books, and action planners.

But what if we recognized a different purpose? To believe that our lives are worthy and worthwhile without needing to prove it?

Most people throughout history seemed to understand that our work exists to provide for our life. And that the point of life is recreation (which comes from the Latin word recreare, which means “to refresh, restore, revive”) and leisure. To spend time with friends and family. To dwell in reflection and relationship. Resting in the abundance of life without feeling driven or anxious.

We need things that, by our society’s standards, waste time. Do-nothing apps. Unproductivity software. Demotivational books. And, perhaps, an inaction planner.

Yes, an inaction planner is a bit ironic. It could very easily become another irritating thing on the to-do list. If that’s how you feel, please just put this on your shelf. But put it somewhere where you can see it everyday. Let this notebook be a reminder that it is ok to do absolutely nothing. It is ok to rest. It is ok to prioritize things that give you joy. Things that give you life. Even if those things get in the way of success.

Here’s how the inaction planner works.

In the front of this inaction planner is three month’s worth of calendars. Some folks fill their calendars with doctor’s appointments or work commitments or due-dates for projects. But these calendars exist for vacations, relaxation, and breaks.

After several monthly calendars are thirteen weekly schedules followed by weekly pages for each day. Three months. Thirteen weeks. Ninety-one days. Enough for an entire season. You needn’t fill out a single page. Or you can fill out some. Or all of them.

Each daily page is the same. At the start is an invitation to check in with how you’re feeling. Then I invite you to make note of the stressful tasks you feel like you have to tackle on that day. But instead of treating that as your to-do list, I’m asking you to engage in a healthy bit of willful procrastination, outright dismissal, or intentional half-assery. Which things can be set aside? Which things can be accomplished with minimal effort?

And then we get to the good stuff. Next, I invite you to make a note of the things you’d love to do with your time. What would give you joy? How can you prioritize these life-giving things?

At the end of each page, I invite you to spend a few minutes doing nothing. Not a fancy sort of nothing like meditation or mindfulness. Rather, an agenda-free nothing. Nothing for nothing’s sake.

Next, if you are in need of exploring possible sources of glorious nothingness, I suggest some intentionally unproductive practices. Inactivites. Practices so unproductive that they subvert societal expectation. You may choose to try them out. You may rip them out of the notebook to start a restful campfire. Or you may let them sit there, unread.

Finally, I’ve included fifty-two pages for note-taking.

What you do with this book is up to you. My hope and prayer is that, however you use it, it becomes a small source of peace and joy in a demanding world.