The words “busy” and “important” seem to go together like jam and toast in people’s heads. People seem to be convinced that the busier they are the more productive they are and the more validated they feel.
I know that, when I don’t do anything for a whole day — even when I am ill or on holiday, I feel guilty. Why would you spend a whole day on the beach when you have got a whole island to explore? Why would you go home after work if you could go out with friends?
You’ll often hear people [I suspect I am one of them] moan about how busy they are. But there’s undertones of brag there. “I am so snowed today I didn’t even have time to eat. I hit the gym at 6, was in a conference call by 8 and had meetings all day until 7pm when I had to meet a big client for dinner. I only got to bed at 1am and I have to do it all again tomorrow.”
I’m not sure if it’s particularly prevalent in my industry, where my fellow editors will post about three launch parties they’ve been to in one evening, and continue to do that every night of the week, and manage to squeeze in an extra couple on the weekend, or if it’s something done across the board. I suspect it is, to some extent. It seems to be part of a look how busy/popular/important thing.
There’s a guy I know who every time he sees me brags about how busy he is with so many events to go to and people to see. Perhaps he loves every second of it and wouldn’t swap his life for the world but, I have to wonder: If you have to fill up every spare moment of your life, are you happy?
Of course, sometimes being busy is unavoidable — you’re a new mum, or you’re working on a big case or going for promotion. But, it’s the thinly veiled boasts that go with it that make me wonder when we decided busy was such a great thing.
Busy doesn’t mean you are better at your job, or that you are doing better in life. But everything seems to be pushing us towards having busier lives; smartphones are like our irritating personal assistants who remind you, even when the last thing you want to think about it work, that you have a meeting in the morning, or buzz every time you get a work e-mail — your phone doesn’t care if it’s Friday and you’re trying to enjoy brunch. The lines between your personal life and work get ever more blurred.
As a busy person, I am actively trying to de-busy myself. My favourite moments in life are not the ones where I’m rushing across town between meetings, or grabbing a mocha for lunch because I don’t have time to eat but need the calories. Or spending every moment from when I get out of bed to when I finally hit the hay, out and about doing things.
My favourite moments are the ones when I’m not busy; when I skip that event to go home and play hide and seek with my dog [he’s really rubbish at seeking, even though we only have a small one bedroom flat with very few hiding places — sneak behind the curtains and he’s stumped], or when I make my morning iced tea in my coconut mug.
I’m actively trying to de-busy my diary, asking myself if I have to go into work early or if I have to go to that event. Usually there’s a little wiggle room to be found.
I’ll admit that, after a few years of freelancing and never having any plans, it felt good to get invitations again and to be all over the city meeting people and doing things. But now, I want a little balance. I love weekends with no plans. I love leaving my phone at home when I go out. I love not being busy and, I’m inclined to wonder if being as plan-free as possible is actually the root of all happiness.
