The Lie I Stopped Believing—What Italy Taught Me About Doing Nothing

How slowing down, being present, and doing nothing (the right way) can actually make life better.

We live in a culture that never stops moving

There’s a constant pressure to do—to be productive, to hustle, to achieve. At least for me, there’s this underlying belief that when we’re not actively working, we’re wasting time.

It’s exhausting and not particularly enjoyable.

But what if there’s another way?

When I was in Italy, I discovered that indeed there is.

The luxury of doing less

There’s a different way of living life that involves a slower pace, a value for leisure, and being content without feeling the need to be productive.

An experience I had studying abroad in Rome revealed the Italian art of living well.

One night during our first week there, a group of us wandered down the hill from the John Felice Rome Center (the campus we were staying at) to Dubbini Café —the hangout spot for locals to enjoy aperitivo (pre-dinner drinks + snacks.)

A view from the walk to the café. The apartment balconies always had a bunch of plants!

The outdoor seating area was pretty full, mostly with young people dressed in black and stylish in the Italian way. I could tell they were high-school or college-age, but they had an air of coolness about them that made them seem older than me.

They smoked.

They laughed.

They leaned back in their chairs.

Some looked like they had homework out in front of them, or had backpacks like they just came from school. Whatever they were discussing, they made me want to join their conversations.

I envied their coolness and the way they looked so relaxed and present with each other.

It was in this moment—and in many moments like it during my time in Italy—that I was reminded of the sweetness of doing nothing.

The sweetness of doing nothing

Il dolce far niente, as they say in Italian.

The sweetness of doing nothing at all, yet something so meaningful.

The sweetness of simply being. The Italians didn't know I was transfixed by them and their effortless ease. They were just doing what they always did.

But oh how I longed to be a part of it—of this sweet nothingness.

As the weeks went by, I began to catch on to this principle and embrace it in my own way. I often walked without a particular destination. My friends and I lingered over meals. I people-watched in the piazzas.

One of our first meals in the city! In Italy, restaurants don’t rush you to clear the table like they do in the U.S.

Granted, it was easy to stay off my phone when the nature of the study abroad trip meant the people who were with me and the beauty around me warranted my attention and friendship.

I laughed the most I ever have during those six weeks. (Okay, maybe not counting childhood, but you get my drift.) I laughed and smiled and listened and told stories and played cards and had so much fun.

Now that I'm back in Ohio, it's not as easy to savor the present moment as I know that I should.

I wish I could say that I got good at it in Italy—and that it forever changed the way I live my life—but I still struggle to slow down.

My brain, molded by hustle culture and my own twisted standards, feels guilty during times of slowness.

I get antsy when I'm not "doing something." This important lesson is still sinking in: it’s okay to rest.

Now, back home, I’m on a mission to change the rhythm of my life for more meaningful productivity.

The path forward