The Art of Doing Nothing In Volcán

The Finns have a word, joutilaisuus, which means something close to “idleness” or “leisure.” Some describe it as “the art of doing nothing.”

The Italians have the more poetic phrase, dolce far niente, which means “the sweetness of doing nothing.” That’s one of my favorite phrases from the movie Eat, Pray, Love.

The Dutch have niksen, which is basically “doing nothing on purpose.”

I like all of these words because they make doing nothing sound like something.

And here in Volcán, Panamá, I think I may have discovered my own version of it.

I call it: going for coffee and pretending I have a mission.

My wife and I live in Volcán, up here in the Highlands of Panama, where the weather is cooler, the mountain watches over us, and coffee seems to be part beverage, part religion. My main activity lately has been visiting local coffee shops. I tell myself I’m “checking them out.” You know, serious research. Very official. Almost academic.

But if I’m honest, most of the time I’m just drinking coffee and doing nothing.

And I’m getting pretty good at it.

I walk in, order a coffee, look around, and observe the ancient rituals of café life. Who is sitting where? Who knows the owner? Who is solving world problems at the corner table? Who is silently staring into their cup like it contains the meaning of life, or at least the meaning of breakfast?

Sometimes I talk to people. Expats. Locals. Travelers. Retirees. Folks who came to Panama with a plan and others who came here because they were tired of plans.

That may be one of the great gifts of living here. Volcán gives you permission to slow down. Not officially, of course. There is no town ordinance requiring relaxation, though I would support one. But the rhythm here is different. People linger. Conversations stretch. Coffee is not something you slam down while driving through traffic and yelling at your dashboard.

Coffee here has room to breathe.

And so do we.

In the United States, we often treat doing nothing like a character flaw. We call it loafing, wasting time, being lazy, or “not being productive.” Even retirement can become a competitive sport. How many projects do you have? How many hobbies? How many pickleball tournaments can one human survive?

But maybe doing nothing is not a failure of purpose.

Maybe it is the purpose.

Maybe sitting in a Volcán coffee shop, watching steam rise from a cup, listening to Spanish conversations I only partially understand, and letting the day unfold without bullying it into submission is not laziness.

Maybe it is wisdom.

The Italians call it the sweetness of doing nothing.

The Finns call it joutilaisuus.

The Dutch call it niksen.

Here in Volcán, I call it Tuesday.

And maybe, after enough coffee, I’ll call it enlightenment.

Come join me!