Recently, I listened to a story on a podcast about a woman who went missing during a tourist tour in Iceland in 2012. When the tour bus stopped for a lunch break, she decided to change her clothes and returned to the bus shortly afterwards. As departure time approached, a man on the bus noticed that an Asian woman dressed in black was no longer there and alerted the tour staff. A search party was immediately organised and an intensive search began. Meanwhile, the woman who had returned to the bus did not realise that she herself matched the description and, feeling worried, even joined the search efforts. When the initial searches yielded no results, the police were notified, coastguard boats joined the operation, and helicopters were even called in for use early in the morning. The chaos continued until 3 a.m., when the woman finally realised that she was the person being searched for.
A person searching for themselves and unable to find themselves. Perhaps a situation that is not unfamiliar to many of us. This incident is amusing and can make us laugh, yet it also reminds us of a tragic human condition: being in a constant state of searching. A continuous rush and never-ending goals. These goals change according to place, time, culture, and age. Every day, at all times, we are doing something—or we think we should be doing something. We believe we should be having fun, doing things that make us happy, and doing everything we can to avoid uncomfortable emotions such as sadness, anxiety, and fear.
We link wellbeing to the absence of unwanted emotions and the presence of desired states. This is why the rush never ends. We search for wellbeing in constant happiness, doing pleasurable things, reaching high positions, achieving success, gaining status, acquiring thousands of followers on social media, being admired, possessing enviable beauty, and having perfect body measurements. Of course, wanting these things commands us to keep rushing, to never stay still, and to remain constantly occupied. As a result, when we fail to maintain the desired level of productivity or performance, or when we experience unhappiness, irritability, stress, or fear, we tend not to accept these states and instead interpret them as failure, inadequacy, or an inability to be like others.
When we feel inadequate, unsuccessful, or dissatisfied with ourselves, we assume that we are doing something wrong, incorrectly, or incompletely, and we enter yet another process of trying to do better. This can continue until the next experience of “failure.” Strangely enough, we often go through these processes without even realising it—life simply carries on in autopilot mode. Sometimes, however, something happens that disrupts this cycle. For example, we may be shaken by the news of the death of someone close to us. In such moments, we hear ourselves and others say things like, “They were here just yesterday and now they’re gone—everything is so meaningless,” or “Everything is empty; people should appreciate the present moment.” This awareness about time and life lasts perhaps a week, at most two, and then, after a short pause, we return to the cycle of rushing and searching for happiness.
These processes reflect a state of unawareness—a persistent sense of dissatisfaction. A constant waiting for the future and the belief that goodness lies there. Expecting happiness and wellbeing from the future conditions us to live the present moment in dissatisfaction. A humanity that is never satisfied, never quite able to find itself, and constantly in search of itself. Perhaps there is nothing to be found at all—or perhaps what we think we have found is never what we were truly seeking.
Instead of constant rushing or searching, perhaps the ability to stop and do nothing can bring us closer to time and allow us to live in the present. Doing nothing should not be understood as idly standing still and drifting into thoughts, but rather as a state of awareness: noticing emotions, thoughts, bodily sensations, sounds, images, and feelings as they arise, just as they are, and—with this awareness—directing our attention to what is present and to our values.
Perhaps “wellbeing” is not found in a future achievement, but in watching our child sway as they walk across the room; in the colours of trees and leaves we see while walking down the street; in remembering a funny moment shared with a loved one we have lost and shedding a single tear; or in the compassion and understanding we show ourselves when we lose a race against others. By doing nothing, perhaps we are, in fact, able to do everything.