Devil's Resting Bench
Come again? Idleness — that's just doing nothing, isn't it? The devil's playground and all that?
And how exactly am I supposed to downshift when a couple of lorries are blocking the entrance to the street? So I should still shift into idle, should I?
Oh, yes. Yes indeed.
And no, I don’t think a stroll into leisure is the devil’s resting bench, or that sweet idleness encourages any particular vices. The myth of hard, intense, ever-accelerating work still rattles around in people’s heads, stubbornly present. Those who don’t work make themselves suspicious. Or at the very least contemptible — because the idle one damages the economy and dissolves society with the sweetness of doing nothing.
Idleness has a sister, and she sounds sweet and melodious: dolce far niente. The sweet doing-of-nothing, with Latin roots. Of course, for society’s sake, work must be taken on and done. But this isn’t about “what if everyone became idle.” They won’t. People don’t work solely — or not only — out of compulsion, to feed the family or at least themselves, pay rent, take out insurance, and perhaps go on holiday. Work gives Homo sapiens a certain structure to the day, and hopefully the satisfying insight: “What I do makes sense.”
Those who become idle do so voluntarily — they’ve made a conscious choice. These voluntary downshifters know full well that working less, or not at all, comes with consequences. Money flows less freely, or stops altogether. Prosperity is no longer guaranteed. And daily necessities are no longer a given.
The voluntary choosing of the idle life must have nudged someone, lying in thought on a flowery meadow in the shade of a tree, to say something out loud. This specimen of the human species remarked — laconically or enthusiastically — “Less is more.”
I beg your pardon? If I have or receive less, then exactly what increases? Well, looking more closely at this strange and physically unverified short sentence, many questions surface. How is that supposed to work?
Off the top of one’s head, the rule — if it is one — holds up logically for some things. Whoever is less annoyed gets more out of life. Whoever eats less is slimmer. But I don’t think that’s what the original sentence had in mind, fully thought through. Or was it?
Naturally the statement points towards a driven society, chased through the day by work. Or perhaps it was a shout of protest aimed at those considerably higher up — the extremely wealthy. Well then, let’s have a look at what this “more” might mean, when there’s less of the material.
The word “idleness” carries within it the word “idle” — which has nothing to do with idle hands making mischief. Installing idleness to experience one’s existence more intensely — that really is something. Downshifting on the highway and taking the exit towards Leisureville — a gentle joy rises up. “I don’t have to anymore. I’ve got time.”
Is this then a life in the hammock — hanging about in parks and coffee shops? The meditative Monday morning being, while all around people rush into offices?
Hmm. If this is supposed to be the devil’s resting bench, I’ll gladly take a seat. And come back to myself, because the pace of life adjusts to a resting pulse. The brain breathes out with relief and allows itself a few loose, boundary-crossing thoughts. The idlers in the stream of thought are the beginning of all — yes — the creative.
Visions and images without a past are shy when hurried. They surface from underground when they can move freely, when no scissors and no barriers block their path.
And this same idleness is supposed to have something to do with laziness? I think, therefore I disagree. The wonderful lightness of moving slowly is tempting.
Conclusion: Rushing through life and against other life has no place here.