Intentional laziness

Identifying a time and then protecting that time is vital.

Over the past year[1], since Covid-19 struck us, one of the things that has been a notable is … well, the lack of notable things. Specifically, we’ve been deprived of many of the occasions that we’d use to mark our year, or to break the day-to-day grind: family holidays, the ability to visit a favourite restaurant, festivals, concerts, sporting events, even popping round to enjoy drinks or a barbecue at a friend’s house. The things we’d look forward to as a way of breaking the monotony of working life – or even of just providing something a bit different to a job we actively enjoy – have been difficult to come by.

This has led to rather odd way of being. It’s easy either to get really, really stuck into work tasks (whether that’s employed work, school work, voluntary work or unpaid work such as childcare or household management), or to find yourself just doing nothing substantive for long stretches of time. You know: just scrolling down your favourite social media feed, playing random games on your phone – all the while feeling guilty that you’re not doing what you should be doing. I’ve certainly found myself doing the latter from time to time when I feel I should be working, and have overcompensated by forcing myself to work longer hours, or to check emails at 10pm when I should get thinking about heading to bed, for instance. So, like many of us, I think, I get stuck into one of two modes:

  1. messing around on mindless tasks, or
  2. working longer and harder than I should be.

The worse thing about the first of these is that I’m not really relaxing when I’m doing them, partly because much of my mind is on things which I feel I ought to be doing.

There are ways to try to fix this, one of which is to be careful about the hours you work or the tasks you perform, if you’re more task-oriented in the role you do, and then to set yourself non-work tasks to fill up the rest of the time. Mowing the lawn, doing the ironing, planting bulbs, doing the shopping, putting the washing out – the tasks that need to get done, but which you might to prefer to put off, or which you just can’t quite find time to do because you’re stuck in the messing/working cycle. This focus on tasks that actually need to be done, but which aren’t work (and divert you from the senseless non-tasks) has a lot to be said for it, and (particularly if you live with other people). It’s likely to provide social benefits as well (you’ll improve the quality of the environment you live in, or you’ll just get shouted at less), but it misses something: it’s not “down-time”.

By down-time, I mean time set aside specifically not to do things. It’s a concept associated with the word “Sabbath”, an Anglicisation of the Hebrew word “shabbat”, which can be translated as “rest” or “cessation”. I particularly like the second translation (though given my lack of understanding of Hebrew, I’m just going to have to accept the Internet’s word for the translation!), as the idea of ceasing what you’re doing, and making a conscious decision to do so, is something I think that it’s easy to miss. That’s true even in normal times, but with fewer markers in our lives for when to slow down and take time for ourselves – a feature of many of our lives in the world of Covid-19 – it’s all too simple just to forget, or to kid ourselves that those endless hours of brainless tapping or scrolling are actually some sort of rest for our minds and souls.

Whether you choose a whole day to rest/cease every week, set aside an hour after the kids have gone to bed, get up an hour early, give yourself half an hour over lunch to walk or cycle or do something else, it doesn’t matter. What I know I need to do (and I think it’s true of others, too), is to practice intentional laziness. This isn’t the same as doing things which you may find relaxing to some degree (I enjoy ironing, I know people who like cleaning the kitchen), but which need to be done: it’s about giving yourself permission not to do something. This can be really, really hard, particularly if you care for other people, have a long commute or a high pressure job, but it’s also really important for our longer-term well-being.

You also need to plan to be lazy. This seems counter-intuitive, at least to me, but if you haven’t set aside time and given yourself permission to relax and cease your other activities, you’ll feel guilty, and then you won’t be relaxing properly. Identifying a time to read a book, watch some low-quality boxsets, ring up a friend for a gossip on the phone or just have a “sneaky nap”, and then protecting that time is worthwhile. No – it’s more than worthwhile: it’s vital.

I’m aware, as I write this, that I’m in the very privileged position of being able to do this fairly easily[2], when for some people, it’s very difficult. Sometimes, we may need to defer these times and to plan a weekend away from the kids, a night out or an evening in front of the television for a week, or even a month or more from now. Planning it gives us something to hold on to, though: a break from the “everyday-ness” which can grind us down. But if we don’t have something to look forward to, a time that we protect, for ourselves, to be intentionally lazy, then our long-term physical, emotional and mental health will suffer.


1 – or two years, or maybe a decade. No-one seems to know.

2 – this doesn’t mean that I do, however.

Taking some time

I’m going to practice what I preach, and not write.

I’m going to practice what I preach, this week, and not write a full article. I’ve had a stressful and busy few weeks, including needing to spend some extra time with the family (nothing scary or earth-shattering – we just needed some family time), and I think the best thing for me to do today is not spend time writing an article. Let me point you instead at some I’ve written in the past.

On self-care:

On security:

On trust:

Keep safe, and look after yourself, dear reader!

Bringing your emotions to work

An opportunity to see our colleagues as more “human”.

We’ve all seen the viral videos of respected experts, working from home, who are being interviewed for a news programme, only to be interrupted by a small child who then proceeds to embarrass them, whilst making the rest of us laugh. Since the increase in working from home brought on by Covid-19, it has become quite common to see similar dramas acted out on our own computer screens as colleagues struggle with children – and sometimes adults – turning up unexpectedly in front of the camera. We tend to laugh these occurrences off – quite rightly – and to be aware that they are often much more embarrassing for the affected party than for the rest of the participants. In all of the situations that I have witnessed where this has happened, the other members of the video conference have been shown understanding both of the fact that the incident occurred at all, but also of the frustration and embarrassment of the affected party.

This is all as it should be, but I think that we have a larger lesson to learn here. The emotions evidenced by this sort of incident are obvious and, what is more, it is usually entirely clear what has caused them: we have, after all, just seen the drama unfold in front of us. What I think I am also seeing, partly due to the broadly shared experiences of lock-down, is a better understanding that there are frustrations and emotions that occur due to events which occur off-camera, and that people need to be given space to manage those as much as any other, more obvious issue. Taking time at the beginning of a call to ask a colleague – or even someone from a different organisation – how things are going, how they’re coping, and what’s on their mind – has become much more commonplace than it was when most of us spent most of our time in offices. An acknowledgement of the impact of these trials and tribulations that everybody is facing has become much more acceptable in a work context, because the separation between the work context and the home context is become, for many, so blurred that that are almost indistinguishable.

What is astonishing about this is that we all know, and have always known, if we are honest with ourselves, that these trials and tribulations have always been there. What we seem to have believed is that because there are two separate spaces for most people who are not remote workers – the work environment and the home environment – then everybody should somehow magically be able to compartmentalise their feelings and emotions into corresponding separate boxes.

This was always a fiction, and, more, a self-evident one, which only ever worked in one direction. All families and partners know that there are occasions when a frustrating day at work will leave someone annoyed and upset on their return home. Equally, we expect to celebrate work successes when we arrive back with our families. But while telling work colleagues about the birth of niece, or the arrival of a new puppy, has been seen as just about acceptable, “burdening” them with news about a sick child or the impact of a major flood in the bathroom, both of which may be a major stressor in our lives, has often been seen as “unprofessional”.

Yesterday, my wife and I had to take our dog for emergency surgery[1]. Not only did this have an impact on my ability to attend a meeting, but I was also aware that my ability to function fully at work was impaired. I’m very fortunate to work at a company (Red Hat) where the culture is strongly supportive in dealing with such emergencies, and so it was: colleagues were ready to go out of their way to help, and this morning, one in particular was very forgiving of a rather confused technical question that I asked yesterday evening. I’m pretty sure that the same would have been the case outside the Covid-19 lockdown, but I was cheered (and helped) by their reactions. My emotions and ability to function in this case were due to an obvious and acute event, rather than a set of less visible or underlying conditions or events. Instances of the latter, however, are no less real, nor any less debilitating than instances of the former, but we are generally expected to hide them, at least in work context.

My plea – which is not new, and not original – is that as we fashion a “new normal” for our working lives, we create an environment where expressing and being honest about all parts of our lives – home, work and beyond – is welcomed and encouraged. I am not asking that we should expect colleagues to act as unpaid councillors, or that explosions of anger in meetings should suddenly become acceptable, but, instead, that we get better at not pretending that we are emotionless automata at work, able (and required) to compartmentalise our home lives from our work lives.

There are benefits to such an approach, not the least of which are the positive mental health effects of not “bottling up” our emotions[2]. But an opportunity to see our colleagues as more “human” can lead to better, more honest and empathetic relationships, as well as an increased resilience for businesses and organisations which are able to flex and bend to accommodate tensions and issues in people’s lives as the norm becomes to “chip in” and support colleagues who are struggling, as well as celebrating with them when they are joyful.

There are tensions here, limits of behaviour, and support structures which need to be put in place, but a honest and more rounded person, I believe, is a better and more understanding colleague, and leads to better, more diverse and higher-functioning workplaces.


1 – to fix a slipped disk. Initial signs are that the operation went well.

2 – I want to acknowledge and note that mental health issues are complex and need special management and treatment: something I have neither the expertise nor space to address in this article. I am, however, strongly in favour of more openness and less stigmatising of mental health issues, by which the vast majority of us will be affected – first or second hand – at some point in our lives. I know that I have.