🛑 The Power of Pause: Why Doing Nothing is Doing Everything
Hook: What if the most productive part of your day was… your nap?
Somewhere between my 12th browser tab and 5th WhatsApp group, I found myself searching for a productivity hack to…rest.
Because it turns out, doing nothing is harder than doing everything
Sometimes the best way to speed up is to stop buffering.
But when I finally did press pause—truly paused, not just switched tabs—I discovered that nothing might just be everything.
The Hustle Hangover
I’ve always been busy. Dangerously efficient. Proud owner of multiple to-do lists, backup Evernote folders, a Trello board titled “World Domination,” and a Google Calendar that looks like a game of Tetris played by a caffeinated octopus.
And it wasn’t just physical busyness. I’m the kind of guy who always does something. Ask my brother a question? I’ll answer—even if it wasn’t directed at me. I'm not just doing—I’m also thinking about doing while doing something else. I once mentally planned a presentation while brushing, replying to an email, and checking how long the dal needs to boil. Multi-tasking isn’t a skill; it’s a survival instinct.
When you’re the family’s official answerer of all questions, silence is not golden—it’s impossible!
So when I told people I was going to a retreat where I couldn’t speak for a week, jaws dropped.
My mother looked at me like I had announced I was becoming a monk.
“You? You can’t stay quiet for two minutes! Seven days?! How??”
Fair point.
But I went.
Vipassana: When Ramkey Hit “Pause All”
Not your typical vacation with infinity pools and buffet regret. This was Vipassana—24 hours a day of silence.
No phone.
No eye contact.
No "Hey, just circling back on this..." emails.
Just... me. My thoughts. And my knees asking politely to be freed from cross-legged hell.
24 hours of silence a day. One million thoughts per minute. And then just being!
The first day, I wanted to escape. The second day, I mentally redecorated my house. By day three, something strange happened: my thoughts slowed down. Patterns emerged. A deep stillness took hold—equal parts terrifying and beautiful.
In that sacred silence, I met a version of myself who wasn’t performing. Not optimizing. Not scheduling. Just being.
And guess what? He had some decent ideas.
My Daily “Itna Toh Banta Hai” Nap
Now back in the real world (with emails and socks), I’ve kept a sacred tradition: the 30-minute afternoon nap.
I call it the Itna Toh Banta Hai nap.
A pause between meetings and mayhem. No guilt. No performance anxiety. Just a gentle reboot.
You’d be amazed how many world-saving insights arrive between minutes 13 and 15. Einstein had a bathtub. I have my couch and a throw pillow that knows all my secrets.
The Ceiling Is Underrated
Sometimes I lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling. That’s it. No AirPods. No TED Talk. Just my brain slowly defragmenting like a dusty old hard drive.
You don’t need mushrooms to hallucinate ideas. Try the ceiling.
What emerges is gold:
🍝 A dinner idea.
🪧 A Substack title.
🧠 An “aha” moment about why I keep procrastinating that one thing.
None of it came from effort. It came from space.
Walks Without AirPods: A Lost Art
I now go on what I call “raw walks.” No inputs. Just walking like it's 1995 and I’m grounded from technology.
First five minutes: sheer panic.
Minutes six to twelve: grudging acceptance.
By minute fifteen: I’m composing symphonies in my head or laughing at my own inner monologue.
Raw walking: like raw food, but for your brain
We’ve become so addicted to content that silence feels like withdrawal. But in silence, the brain finally speaks up.
And it has interesting things to say—if you let it.
Doing Nothing ≠ Wasting Time
Let me be clear: this isn’t about laziness. It’s about deliberate stillness.
Not collapse. Pause.
Like a comma in a sentence. A breath before the chorus.
Science backs this up too. Rest improves:
Creativity
Memory consolidation
Decision-making
Emotional regulation
But you didn’t need science to tell you that. You needed permission.
So Here’s Your Permission Slip 🛑
You’re allowed to nap.
You’re allowed to stare into space.
You’re allowed to lie on a couch with a metaphorical “Loading…” sign over your head.
Because rest isn’t a reward. It’s part of the process.
Next time someone asks what you’re doing, feel free to say:
“Nothing. On purpose.”
And then go do absolutely that.