The Joy of Being Idle

"To do nothing at all is the most difficult thing in the world, the most difficult and the most intellectual." — Oscar Wilde

There are some words that don’t have a direct translation in other languages. They serve as a glimpse into a new culture, into a different way of seeing the world. Language is not just a means of expression and communication, but a canvas to rearrange your thoughts in oddly specific ways.

As a proud Spaniard, one of my favourite such words is sobremesa. It refers to the time following lunch or dinner, when you linger there, playing cards, taking shots with your cousins, arguing with your racist uncle or not doing anything at all. You don’t make money during la sobremesa, nor do you produce any good that you can sell afterwards. You spend quality time with your loved ones and build memories that will last for a lifetime.

The usefulness of the useless

When I was studying in Athens, Greece, a French friend lent me a book. “You’ll enjoy it” — she said.

Athens — photo by Constantinos Kollias

It was in French, so I felt flattered that she trusted my French skills. The book — The usefulness of the useless, by Nuccio Ordine — consisted of plenty of fragments from classical literature emphasising the relevance of ‘useless’ knowledge. Ancient Greek, opera, ballet, history of art, painting… You name it. These are all things that don’t help you pay the bills, but that warm your soul. You can call me a walking cliché, but I love this quote from The Dead Poets Society:

“Medicine, business, law, engineering… These are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love… These are what we stay alive for.”

This idea struck a chord very early on — probably when I first got acquainted with classical music. I was a teenager and I had no prior musical training, but a friend showed me Vivaldi’s Winter piece, from The Four Seasons, and I was hooked. Yes, that’s the piece that sounds in the background when a film supervillain pets his cat as he faces the window in his desk.

At that moment, the edgy teenager that spent most of his time break dancing fell in love with that baroque banger. And to this day, I still love both things: classical music and break dance.

I have something he will never have

I used to be extremely impractical, a dreamer, we could say. And I soon realised that in order to enjoy all the fine things in life, I needed money and time. So I got obsessed with that. People take an interest in symphonic concerts, ballet, and opera to signal their wealth and high status. But I was the opposite. I started reading about the stock market, poker, business, economics… Anything related to money. I became shrewd and self-driven and now most of my decisions involve a cost-benefit analysis. And I love it.

But I know when to stop.

I’ll never forget one story from The Psychology of Money, by Morgan Housel — book that I strongly recommend.

“At a party given by a billionaire on Shelter Island, Kurt Vonnegut informs his pal, Joseph Heller, that their host, a hedge fund manager, had made more money in a single day than Heller had earned from his wildly popular novel Catch-22 over its whole history. Heller responds, ‘Yes, but I have something he will never have… Enough.’ Enough. I was stunned by the simple eloquence of that word—stunned for two reasons: first, because I have been given so much in my own life and, second, because Joseph Heller couldn’t have been more accurate. For a critical element of our society, including many of the wealthiest and most powerful among us, there seems to be no limit today on what enough entails.”

I don’t want expensive cars, extravagant watches, or a penthouse in Dubai — ew. Money brings more happiness by subtraction, not addition. It’s useful to tell your boss to f*ck off, cover unexpected expenses, or delegate unpleasant tasks.

Desire, desire, desire

Most people want money because they think it’s going to make them happier — and it helps, I’m not going to lie. But expectations matter even more. If you have food, shelter and people that love you, you’re set for life. You don’t need anything else. But we, humans, experience something that makes us miserable — desiring stuff.

Arthur Schopenhauer, a grumpy German philosopher from the 19th century, said that every human goes through a dependable cycle in his life. First we desire something and we suffer because we don’t have it. When we finally have it, we experience a fleeting moment of joy that is invariably followed by boredom. Then, desire whispers again. The cycle repeats until we die.

These aren’t just musings from the good, ole Arthur. Almost two centuries later, neuroscience has confirmed his ideas. Scientists refer to this phenomenon as “hedonic adaptation”. As you make more money, the amount of things you desire increases proportionally. Suddenly you ‘need’ to buy a bed for your Golden Retriever because the blanket your grandma gave you isn’t good enough.

My recipe

What I do to avoid the trap of desire is being very selective about what desires I pursue. That means, for example, putting off purchases and saying no very often. I put off buying an iPad for almost 2 years. It felt like a barely useful, nice-to-have gadget, and it still does. But in the end I gave in to the might of capitalism. As for seizing the day and enjoying siestas, there’s no credit I could take. It came by default with my Spaniard starter pack.

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Do you have a hard time enjoying ‘useless’ things or you love a good sobremesa with friends and family?

Alejandro Lopez — The Psychology of Wealth