In quiet moments - when one is not preoccupied with work pressures, to-do lists, familial or social obligations, when one is not reading a book, watching a movie, immersed in one’s phone, etc. - something curious happens. Unburdened by immediate demands, the idle, carefree mind begins to wander into territories that the beleaguered mind has neither the time nor the bandwidth to explore. It is here, in these undisturbed interstitial intervals of consciousness, that reality fades softly into the background and possibility expands beyond the limits of the probable. It is here that idealism takes shape - painting scenarios that could be beautiful, like an idyllic Utopian dream, or treacherous à la “Devil’s workshop”.
Bertrand Russell wrote a whole essay titled “In Praise of Idleness” in which he argued that work is not one of the purposes of human life; leisure is. The opening lines of the poem “Leisure” by the Welsh poet W H Davies bring this point sharply into focus:
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
The idle mind - which typically manifests when we’re enjoying our “downtime” or “me-time” - is a great architect of possible worlds. Without the harsh interruptions of deadlines, targets, or the grinding friction of daily existence, the idle mind constructs perfect worlds with ease. In these idealistic mental landscapes, problems dissolve with elegant simplicity, relationships unfold without conflict, and aspirations manifest without struggle. The idle mind’s idealism acts as a psychological sanctuary, a respite from the complexities and compromises that define lived experience. In crafting these idyllic scenarios, we momentarily transcend the limitations that bind us - financial pressures, business targets, social awkwardness, physical constraints, or simply the mundane engagements and banal activities that constitute one’s quotidian routine.
There exists a danger in this mental retreat: it can become a substitute for action rather than its catalyst. When the imagined perfection of future scenarios becomes more compelling than the imperfect reality of present circumstances, the mind risks being trapped in a cycle of inaction - not very different from what people refer to as “analysis paralysis”. Projects don’t get off the ground because dealing with mundane transactional prerequisites is too laborious and unexciting. Literary works remains unwritten because the actual process of writing involves an agonizing search for the perfect expression.
An ancient Chinese concept offers a refreshing perspective on the tension between idle idealism and engaged action: wu wei, often translated as “non-action” or “effortless action.” It suggests that the most effective action sometimes emerges not from forceful striving but from a kind of prudent inaction - a way of being that allows natural patterns to unfold while remaining alert to the precise moment when intervention becomes necessary. This principle illuminates a subtler relationship between the idle mind and productive engagement. Perhaps the idle mind’s proclivity toward idealism is but a way of attuning ourselves to the deeper currents of possibility that run beneath the surface of forced effort. In wu wei, the distinction between contemplation and action dissolves; the mind that appears idle may actually be engaged in the most sophisticated form of activity - sensing the moment when the ideal can most naturally manifest in the real.
The contrast between idle idealism and engaged reality reveals something important about human nature. We are creatures caught between the aspiration toward transcendence and the reality of immanence. Our minds naturally drift in the direction of the perfect, the complete, the neat and orderly, the harmonious, while our bodies root us in the imperfect, the incomplete, the messy and chaotic, the discordant. The idealistic mind, freed from immediate engagement with the world, gravitates toward the former, constructing visions of how things could - or should - be, rather than grappling with how things actually are.
For all its potential pitfalls, the idealism of an idle mind remains essential to human flourishing. The detached mind, observing from a distance, sees clearly what those immersed in the tedious work of living cannot perceive. Without the ability to imagine better worlds, we would lack the drive to improve our current circumstances. Quite often, this involves disrupting the status quo. As Ursula K. Le Guin observes in “The Wave in the Mind”:
The exercise of imagination is dangerous to those who profit from the way things are because it has the power to show that the way things are is not permanent, not universal, not necessary.
Most major social reforms, scientific breakthroughs, technological innovations, artistic improvisations, and even personal transformations, begin with a mind wandering into the uncharted idyll of idealism. Martin Luther King Jr’s “I have a dream…” speech is one of many noteworthy examples of minds that dared to imagine a better world.
In this dance between ideal and real, the idle mind serves as both architect and provocateur. It envisions a possible future and then challenges the active self to actualize it. The key lies in maintaining a dynamic relationship between contemplation and action, between the perfect and the possible. The idle mind’s visions must eventually submit to the test of engagement with reality, where idealistic blueprints encounter the resistance of actual materials, other people’s competing visions, and the stubborn particularities of the world as it is. The most fruitful idealism is that which remains tethered to action, allowing the perfect to inspire the good, while accepting that the path from vision to reality is always longer and stranger than the idle mind could imagine.
Perhaps this is the deepest wisdom of idle idealism: not only that it shows us how the world should be, but also that it reminds us that the world could be different. In a culture often resigned to cynicism or trapped in the tyranny of the immediate, the idle mind’s capacity for envisioning alternatives becomes a form of resistance - a quiet insistence that reality is not fixed, that possibility remains open, and that the distance between what is and what could be might be smaller than we think, or the need to bridge that gap more urgent than we realize.
The challenge, then, is to honor both the vision and the work, the thought and the act; to remember that the most meaningful idealism is not that which remains forever beautifully perfect in our imagination, but that which dares to enter the world and accept the imperfection of becoming real.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to postulate that this is one quintessentially human ability - to imagine, to create new worlds - that artificial intelligence can come close to mimicking but can never fully replicate. John Lennon’s “Imagine” is an excellent example of an idealistic idyll dreamed up by him (presumably) when idling. I doubt any AI system will be able to surpass Lennon’s imagination and creativity - at least, not in our lifetimes.
Readers of my generation are likely to be familiar with the song, but for those who aren’t - and especially for Millennials and younger readers - I am reproducing the lyrics below…
Imagine there’s no Heaven
It’s easy if you try
No Hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people living for today
Imagine there’s no countries
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people living life in peace
You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope some day you’ll join us
And the world will be one
Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people sharing all the world
You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope some day you’ll join us
And the world will live as one
Thanks for that, Hemant. It seems that a defense of idleness is a popular subject with essayists. And I think that rather proves your point.
I find that my idle mind is at its best when my body is pre-occupied with mindless tasks. In much the same way that mindless walking, or perambulating, was said to encourage the same felicity of thought.
The world is still full of mindless work. Engaging with this "Karma Yoga" is more conducive to idealistic reflections than occupying the mind with ways to avoid physical labour.
It also makes total idleness even more of a treat.
havent had that proverbial eureka moment, ....yet....first to seek physical idleness and then of the the mind.