You know that person who's always "too busy"?
Can't catch up, can't go for a walk, can't take a break - because there's always something urgent to do. Work's piling up, meetings are back-to-back, the dog's not getting walked, and the gym... well, that's been on pause for a while now.
I say "that person," but for a long time, that was me.
Somewhere along the way, being busy started to feel like a marker of success. If I had things to do, it meant I was in demand. It meant I mattered. I got used to chasing that next thing, checking off the next task, setting the next goal. And I convinced myself that was a good thing - that I was being productive, making progress, doing well.
But recently, I came across a video that changed something in me. It wasn't dramatic. In fact, it was quiet, it talked about the idea of puttering. Just the act of doing things slowly. Leisurely. Without a clear objective. Not to tick something off or prove a point. Just... for the sake of doing them.
I'll be honest, it stopped me in my tracks.
Because I don't think I'd done anything slowly in years. Even holidays had to be efficient. Even walks had to count towards my step goal. Everything had to serve a purpose. Everything had to mean something.
But when I think about it now, that way of living, that constant drive, wasn't always making me feel accomplished. It was often just making me tired.
It was a kind of exhaustion I didn't know how to name back then. Not the kind that sleep can fix, but the kind that comes from being constantly "on." I started realising that I wasn't actually enjoying much of what I was doing, I was just trying to get through it.
And that's when this idea of puttering started to make sense.
It's not a technique or a productivity hack. It's just... doing simple things slowly. Making a cup of coffee. Rearranging a shelf. Watering the plants. Wiping down a table. Not to get them "done" but because you feel like doing them. No timeline. No pressure.
And somehow, in those aimless minutes, something shifts. You start to feel your shoulders relax. Your breathing evens out. Your mind, usually racing ahead to the next three things, stays with you for a bit. There's no noise. Just presence.
I didn't realise how much I needed that.
Because the truth is, burnout doesn't always show up as a big crash. Sometimes, it shows up quietly. In the way you stop looking forward to things. In how irritable you get when something small doesn't go your way. In the way your days start to blur into one another.
For me, learning to putter wasn't about giving up on ambition. It was about giving myself some room. Letting go of this idea that every moment has to be productive. And, ironically, that's what helped me come back to my work with more clarity. More calm. Even more creativity.
It's easy to think slowing down is indulgent. But what I've come to realise is that it's necessary. Especially when the pace we're used to is quietly draining us.
So now, I'm trying to make space for the slow things. The ordinary things. The things that don't always have an end goal. Not because I'm trying to optimise my life, but because I want to enjoy it.