I remember the first Monday after I retired. I woke up early, as usual, poured a cup of coffee, and sat at the kitchen table staring at… absolutely nothing. No emails to answer. No staff meetings to dread. No to-do list longer than a CVS receipt. And that should have felt amazing. But it didn’t.

Instead, I found myself fidgeting, glancing at my watch, and wondering if I was wasting time. Shouldn’t I be doing something? Shouldn’t I have already signed up for a class, started volunteering, reorganized the garage, or learned Italian?

Nope. Turns out, one of the hardest and most liberating lessons I’ve had to learn in retirement is this: it’s okay to do nothing. In fact, it’s not just okay. It might be exactly what you need.

Let’s talk about the lost art of unproductivity and why, in retirement, mastering it can be one of your greatest achievements.

We’ve Been Programmed to Go, Go, Go

Think about it: for 30, 40, maybe even 50 years, our worth was measured in output. We were praised for being efficient, reliable, productive. We got up early, stayed late, answered calls on weekends. We filled every moment with tasks, goals, and checklists. And when we weren’t doing something, we felt a gnawing sense of guilt.

Sound familiar?

That mindset doesn’t just disappear when you walk out of the office for the last time. In fact, for many retirees, the silence that follows a long career is unnerving. We’ve spent decades hustling, and suddenly, no one is handing us a performance review. There’s no more calendar full of obligations. It’s like being a shark thrown into a koi pond, you keep swimming, even if there’s nowhere to go.

But here’s the kicker: retirement isn’t supposed to be a continuation of your working life, it’s meant to be something entirely different. Something quieter. Slower. More reflective. And sometimes, yes, gloriously lazy.

Why “Doing Nothing” Is Actually Doing Something

Now, when I say “doing nothing,” I don’t mean lying in bed for weeks binge-watching soap operas and eating crackers out of the box. (Although, let’s be honest, that doesn’t sound too bad either.)

I’m talking about intentional stillness.
Things like:

• Sitting on the porch watching the birds, without also reading a book or checking your phone.
• Taking a slow walk without counting steps or listening to a podcast.
• Drinking coffee in silence. No news, no music, no mental to-do list.
• Simply breathing and noticing you’re alive.
• Being grateful for the gift of life

These moments may feel unproductive in the traditional sense, but they’re doing plenty for you:

• Reducing stress (because retirement doesn’t magically erase anxiety)
• Restoring creativity (some of your best ideas will come when you’re staring at nothing)
• Improving focus (ironically, doing nothing can make you better at doing something later)
• Reconnecting with yourself (that person who’s been buried under deadlines for decades)

We underestimate just how much our minds and bodies crave rest—not sleep, not distraction, but true, restorative idleness.

Retirement Isn’t a Productivity Contest

Let me confess something: I used to secretly compare myself to other retirees.
“Oh, Bob’s already building furniture for his grandkids, maybe I should take up woodworking.”
“Susan’s in three book clubs, a hiking group, and teaches yoga twice a week. What have I done today? I microwaved leftover chili.”

It’s easy to fall into the trap of competitive retirement. Social media doesn’t help, either. Suddenly, everyone’s sharing photos of their latest gourmet cooking class in Tuscany while you’re still trying to figure out if sweatpants are appropriate for lunch at Panera.

But here’s the truth: you do not need to justify your retirement to anyone.
Not your kids. Not your neighbors. Not your inner overachiever. You earned this time. If you want to fill your days with travel and hobbies, great. If you want to lie on a hammock naming the clouds, even better.

Retirement is not a second career. It’s not a productivity boot camp. It’s the first time in your life where you’re allowed—expected, even—to slow down.

The “Nothing Day” Challenge

Here’s something that helped me: I gave myself permission to have what I call a “Nothing Day.” Once a week, I make it a point to plan… nothing. If I end up doing something, that’s fine too.

No errands. No chores. No appointments. No checklists. I just let the day unfold.

Sometimes I read. Sometimes I take a nap. Sometimes I watch the squirrels. Sometimes I lie in the hammock and wonder if they’re watching me.

At first, it felt wasteful. But after a few weeks, I noticed something. I was calmer. I was happier. I actually looked forward to my Nothing Days more than my busy ones. They became a kind of mini-vacation for the soul.

So I challenge you, if you haven’t already, try it. Block off one day a week where you let go of the need to accomplish anything. See what happens.

When Doing Nothing Becomes a Spiritual Practice

If this all sounds a little woo-woo, bear with me. There’s actually ancient wisdom in slowing down.

In many cultures, stillness is sacred. In Buddhism, for example, “just sitting” is a form of meditation. In Christianity, there’s the concept of Sabbath, a day of rest. The Stoics of Ancient Rome valued ataraxia, a state of calmness and peace. There is a purpose in all of these, trust me.

In other words, what we Western retirees call “being lazy,” other civilizations might call enlightenment.

Sometimes, the deepest clarity comes not from action, but from stillness. When we finally stop moving, we can actually hear ourselves think. Or better yet, hear ourselves not think. And that, my friend, is a luxury money can’t buy.

But What If I Get Bored?

Good question. And a common one as well.

We’ve been taught to fear boredom, as if it’s a symptom of failure. But boredom is actually a doorway. It’s a blank canvas. It forces you to sit with yourself, and when you do, you may rediscover passions you forgot, dreams you shelved, or even new joys you never imagined.

Sometimes doing nothing leads to something. Sometimes it leads to peace. Sometimes it leads to a spontaneous dance party in your living room with the dog as your backup dancer. (Don’t ask.)

Final Thoughts from the Hammock

So here I am, a few years into retirement, and I’ll admit, I’m still learning. I still have days where I feel the itch to fill every hour. I still glance sideways at my more “active” retired friends and wonder if I’m doing this wrong.

But then I remember: there is no wrong way to retire.
And if there is, I’m perfectly happy being wrong from the comfort of my lawn chair.

So give yourself permission. Turn off the noise. Unplug from the pressure. Pour another cup of coffee. Watch the breeze play with the leaves. Do absolutely nothing and let it be enough.

You’ve earned it.

Let’s Talk:
Have you learned to embrace doing nothing in retirement? Or do you still struggle with the guilt of unproductivity? Leave a comment below and let’s share our stories (preferably while reclining).