The Art of Doing Nothing - Lessons from Shoji Morimoto
Is It Okay to Do Nothing? Reflections on Presence and Worth.
Today I watched a YouTube video about Shoji Morimoto, a man in Japan whose job is, quite literally, to “do nothing”. People hire him to simply be there no advice, no labor, no performance. Just presence.
This video appeared on my YouTube recommendations and as you know lately I am investigating a lot about JUST BEING, so I guess this time the algorithm worked and showed me something that catch my full attention.
But this video had more, his quiet way of being in the world, and the way others respond to it, got under my skin.
Morimoto mentions in different occasions that he always struggled to work on a team or make natural connections. And this made me again think, are we really teach how to connect or we should be already born with that ability?
Because I don’t remember anyone teaching me how to really connect. I learned how to be polite, how to listen, how to fit in. But genuine connection, the kind that’s rooted in presence, honesty, and emotional safety, that’s not something school or work prepares us for. Most of us stumble into it through trial and error, heartbreak and healing.
We’re told from a young age that being social is natural. That teamwork is essential. That we should "make friends easily" and "get along with everyone." But what if that’s not true for everyone? What if some of us, like Morimoto, don’t fit neatly into that mould? Does that make us broken? Or simply different?
Maybe connection isn’t something we're all born knowing how to do. Maybe it's something we have to unlearn and relearn, especially in a world where so much of our energy is spent trying to perform connection rather than feel it.
Morimoto’s presence, quiet, neutral, nonjudgmental, is, ironically, what allows others to feel safe enough to open up. He doesn’t offer advice, he doesn’t fix, he doesn’t force a bond. And somehow, that makes room for something real to emerge. Maybe that is connection.
And maybe we’re all just trying to remember how to be with each other like that, without needing to impress, or solve, or sparkle.
Morimoto has just made me realise that this is the connection I love to offer. That’s how I like to think when I give out my classes, I want to just offer that space. Just be present and hold a safe space for others. Be quite neutral, nonjudgmental and just hold the space.
There were a few quotes in the video that especially stayed with me and I’d love to open a space here to reflect and discuss them with you.
“My ex-boss told me that nothing changes whether you are here or not.”
People feel so lonely, and that got me also questioning if we were made to be lonely. Is loneliness a feeling or something we consciously choose? There are moments when I’ve been surrounded by people and still felt completely alone. And other times, I’ve been physically alone but felt held, peaceful, even connected. So what is loneliness, really? Is it simply the absence of others, or the absence of being seen?
Have you ever felt invisible? Like your presence, or absence, makes no difference?
This quote hit my nerves. In a world that prizes measurable output, it’s easy to internalise the idea that we’re only valuable if we’re “doing” something. But what about JUST BEING? What if presence, quiet, unassuming presence, matters more than we realise?
His response made me go even deeper “I’m not useless. I exist.”
Even this one hit hard. In a society where our value is tied to productivity, Shoji reminds us that just existing is enough. And that is what I love to teach at my classes stop DOING and start BEING.
What if being still is its own kind of power?
“I cannot do enough.”
This is the kind of thought that loops endlessly in our heads. Always wanting to do more, go further, achieve more…
No matter how much we achieve, there’s always more. More tasks, more expectations, more proving. This quote felt like the soft sigh of someone exhausted by the constant demand to be “enough” through action. It made me wonder: What if we already ARE enough, regardless of output?
Stop here for a minute and think about it. Have you ever judged your worth based on how much you’re doing?
“Isn't it OK to do nothing productively?”
This might be my favourite one. What a radical reframe!!
Doing nothing doesn’t have to mean laziness or escape, it can be a conscious act of “being with”. Rest, reflection, silence, and presence are not voids: they’re fertile ground.
At first, it sounds like a contradiction. “Doing nothing” and “being productive” live on opposite ends of how we usually measure value. But the more I sit with this, the more I feel it touches on something essential that we rarely give ourselves permission to explore.
I’ve spent so much of my life tying my worth to output. To the things I can cross off a to-do list. To how helpful, useful, responsive, or efficient I am. Rest always came with a side of guilt. Sitting still felt like wasting time. Even when I tried to “relax,” I’d secretly be thinking of what I should be doing instead.
What if doing nothing, truly nothing, isn’t a failure, but a practice?
What if the simple act of sitting in silence, without a goal or plan, is not empty but full? Full of presence. Full of quiet self-connection. Full of space that our minds and hearts desperately need.
And honestly, that feels like a radical act in today’s world. A few years ago I introduced LAZY MONDAY in my life. The day of the week were I SIMPLY AM. I managed to not feel guilty during that day, since it’s a kind act to myself. Doing nothing productively means letting my nervous system reset. I am giving my creativity space to breathe. And offering myself the gift of being fully present without distraction. I am choosing not to react, not to fix, not to force, and instead, just be.
It’s not laziness. It’s a conscious decision to value being over doing, at least for a moment.
And what the heck, what if doing nothing is actually doing something essential? Is rest an act of rebellion in a hyper-busy world?
Give a try to LAZY MONDAY and let me know.
“I think that civilisation only exists when even useless people can live.”
And please read this quote again, because when I heard it first time it really sounded terrible in my head. But after that, this quote is rather both tender and provocative.
It asks us to reconsider what we mean by “useful.” Who defines it? What systems reinforce it? A truly compassionate society is one where people don’t have to justify their existence with constant effort. Where everyone has space to exist, even if they are simply being themselves?
I had to sit with this one for a while. The word ‘useless’ stings. It's harsh. And yet... it’s honest.
We live in a world that constantly measures our value by how much we produce, how quickly we respond, how efficiently we solve problems. We are praised for being “useful”, to our families, our companies, our communities. And when we’re not? When we’re tired, broken, lost, or simply quiet... the shame creeps in.
Hearing Morimoto say this made me realise how deeply that belief lives in me too, that I have to earn my right to rest, to exist, to take up space. That to be seen as worthy, I must contribute in ways that are visible and tangible.
But what if true civilisation, true humanity, is built on something gentler?
What if a society is only truly evolved when it makes space for everyone, not just the high-achievers, the busy ones, the useful ones, but also the ones who are struggling, quiet, different, or simply being?
What if the real measure of our culture is how we treat those who have nothing to offer us in return?
I don’t want to live in a world where usefulness is the price of belonging. I want to live in a world where people are allowed to just be. Where presence is enough. Where even the so-called “useless” are seen, cared for, and welcomed.
And maybe the point is that no one is ever truly useless, we just haven’t learned how to see their worth outside of productivity.
This quote reminded me of that. That US as yoga teachers are also a bit the unseen “useless" persons in the society.
We’re not saving lives in a hospital. We’re not building roads or managing stock portfolios. We’re not always understood. People often assume what we do is easy, or indulgent, or somehow less serious than a “real job.” And yet, we show up, day after day, holding space for others to pause, breathe, and feel, to JUST BE.
We work in silence. In slowness. In subtle shifts that don’t always have immediate, measurable results. We hold people’s emotions, their discomfort, their healing. We remind them of their own inner wisdom. And often, we do all this without recognition, without applause, and sometimes even without enough income to match the energy we give.
And yet, I believe what we offer matters.
Because maybe civilisation isn’t just held together by those who build, manage, and fix. Maybe it’s also held together by those who make room for the invisible. The ones who tend to the spirit, who honour rest, who remind others that they are enough without needing to perform or prove.
So yes, maybe we are a little “useless” in the traditional sense.
And maybe that’s exactly why what we do is so necessary.
Final reflection:
Doing nothing, as Shoji Morimoto shows us, can be a form of presence. A practice of trust. A way of saying: I am enough just as I am. You are enough just as you are. No performance, no productivity, no explanation needed.
What if we allowed more space in our lives for that kind of stillness?
What if we stopped measuring value in action, and started honouring simply being?
As yoga teachers, space-holders, or simply human beings, we can begin there. With the courage to pause. With the humility to sit in silence. With the openness to be seen, even when we have “nothing” to offer.
Because maybe that’s where true connection begins.
So I leave you with this:
“What would happen if you gave yourself permission to do nothing, without guilt, without shame, and without needing to call it something else?”