This morning, I stood in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil so I could make my morning coffee.
Now, there’s nothing unusual about that. It’s something I do every day but instead of just standing there, I noticed where my mind went and I can tell you it didn’t stay in the kitchen. It didn’t stay with the kettle.
It moved straight to what needed to be done next. Emails. Work. Things I hadn’t finished yesterday. Things I should probably start today (the things that you tend to think about when you work from home) and all of it, in the space of a few seconds.
And it made me wonder… When was the last time I simply stood there and let the kettle boil without needing to go anywhere else in my mind?
The Life of Doing
Most of us live in a world built around doing. We measure our days by what we get done, we feel good when we’ve been productive. and we feel uneasy when we haven’t.
Even rest can feel like something we have to justify.
You sit down for five minutes and there’s a quiet voice that says,“Hey! You should be doing something.”
It’s subtle, but it’s always there and over time, we start to tie who we are to what we do.
We become efficient. Capable. Driven but somewhere along the way, something else starts to fade.
When We Become Human Doings
Now don’t get me wrong here, there’s nothing wrong with doing. I mean we all have things to build, create, manage, and take care of.
Doing is a big part of life but when doing becomes the only way we relate to life, something shifts. We start to feel like we are only as valuable as our output.
We start to chase the next task, the next goal, the next result and we start telling ourselves we’ll slow down later… once everything is done.
But everything is never done. So we keep moving and we don’t quite know how to stop.
Remembering How to Be
There is another way of moving through the day. It’s quieter, less urgent but easy to miss.
It’s what happens when you sit with a cup of tea and actually taste it. When you notice the light coming through the window. When you listen to someone without thinking about what you’re going to say next.
Now, in these moments nothing is being achieved. Nothing is being ticked off a list and yet, something feels complete. That’s what it means to just be.
Just being where you are, as you are, without needing to turn the moment into something else.
Why We Drift Away from It
We don’t lose this way of being overnight. We’re slowly trained out of it. Life (through work) asks us to be productive and the world rewards output.
Technology keeps us moving, scrolling, reacting and underneath it all, there’s often a quiet fear. If I stop, I’ll fall behind.
So we keep going…
The Cost of Always Doing
When life becomes a constant stream of doing, it starts to feel really crowded because there’s always something else to think about. Something else to prepare for and something else to finish.
Even the good things can feel rushed.
You achieve something you’ve been working toward and almost immediately, your attention shifts to what’s next. There’s very little space to actually experience anything.
And without that space, it’s easy to feel disconnected.
Letting Being Come First
This isn’t about giving up on the concept of doing. Life still asks things of us and we still have our responsibilities, goals, and things that we care about.
But there’s a different way to hold it. Instead of doing being the centre of everything, it becomes an expression of something deeper.
Being comes first.
From that place, doing becomes quieter, more intentional and less rushed. You still act, create and move forward but you’re not running ahead of yourself the whole time.
Returning to Simple Moments
There’s nothing complicated about coming back to being because it doesn’t require a big change.
It starts in small, ordinary moments like…
- Standing in the kitchen while the kettle boils.
- Taking a breath before you start the next task.
- Washing the dishes and actually feeling the water, the movement, the rhythm.
Not as a technique but just as a way of being present for your own life.
Coming Back to the Kettle
The kettle eventually boiled. Nothing had changed about the situation but for a brief moment, I stayed where I was. No rushing ahead and no planning the next thing.
Just standing there, listening to the sound, watching the steam rise.
It didn’t achieve anything but it felt like I had returned to something I’d been missing.
Maybe the question isn’t how to stop doing. Maybe it’s simply this: Can you allow yourself, even for a moment, to just be?
My short answer is YES.
