I spent part of my holiday sitting in a river.

Which, now I write it down, sounds as though I'd fallen in.

I hadn't.

It was entirely deliberate.

I wasn't swimming.

I wasn't reading.

I wasn't taking photographs.

I wasn't talking.

I wasn't even meditating.

Just sitting.

I found a patch of warm sand a few steps inside the Soča River. My feet rested in the cold, clear water while the sun warmed my shoulders. The river carried on regardless. Birds called from somewhere in the trees. Occasionally I heard voices drifting downstream before disappearing again.

And I didn't do a thing.

It struck me how unusual that felt.

Sitting. Do nothing. It made me realise how rarely I allow myself to be completely unoccupied. Even moments that are supposed to be restful are filled with something. A book. A podcast. Music. Scrolling. Planning tomorrow. Looking up where to go next.

We're very good at consuming.

Less good at simply noticing.

At first, I wondered how long I'd managed to sit there.

About thirty seconds, as it turned out.

My mind was already asking what we were doing next.

Then, almost without noticing, everything settled.

The colours became brighter. I noticed the different sounds the river made depending on the depth of the water. Tiny fish darted between the stones. The breeze came and went. Time seemed to stretch out instead of racing past.

When I eventually stood up, I felt more rested than I had after many afternoons spent "relaxing."

There's growing evidence that our brains benefit from periods of wakeful rest — time when we're awake but not actively consuming information or solving problems. These quiet moments allow the brain to process experiences, consolidate memories and restore attention. In other words, doing nothing isn't a waste of time. It may be exactly what our minds have been asking for.

Perhaps that's why it felt so refreshing.

It also made me notice something else about the holiday.

Donald loves maps and is ALWAYS looking at them. It felt like he'd stop every 5 minutes to consult the map or search for a recommendation, and I found myself becoming unexpectedly impatient.

I realised that I didn't care what the map said. I didn't want to know.

I didn't want to know which café had the best reviews or which viewpoint everyone else thought we should see. I wanted to wander until something caught my eye. To wonder what was around the next corner. To leave a little room for surprise.

I spend so much of my working life organising, planning and thinking ahead. Perhaps what I was craving wasn't just rest.

It was uncertainty.

A little adventure.

The freedom to discover rather than optimise.

I'm beginning to think that's one of the greatest gifts of a good holiday. Not simply seeing different places, but remembering different ways of being.

Since I've been home, I've caught myself reaching for my phone in quiet moments.

Waiting for the kettle to boil.

Sitting in the garden.

Even those few spare minutes seem to demand to be filled.

But what if they don't?

You'll find plenty of articles telling you where to hike, what to eat and which caves to visit.

Strangely, none of them recommends sitting in a river for an hour doing absolutely nothing.

I think they should.

Because the hour sitting in the river won't make anyone's list of "must-do experiences in Slovenia."

Yet it may be the moment I remember longest.

Because, for an hour, there was nowhere else I needed to be.

Nothing I needed to achieve.

No experience to improve.

Just cold water.

Warm sunshine.

Birdsong.

It turns out you don't need an app for that.

A question for you...

When was the last time you spent ten minutes doing absolutely nothing?

Not reading.

Not scrolling.

Not listening.

Not planning.

Just sitting and noticing.

See what happens.