Why Sitting Around Doing Nothing Feels Different at a Nudist Resort

Maybe the strangest luxury at a nudist resort isn't being naked. It's discovering that, for a few hours, nobody needs you to accomplish anything.

Written by: The Barefoot Nudist

There is an activity practiced with remarkable dedication at nudist resorts.

It requires almost no equipment.

Very little training.

No reservation.

No instructor.

And absolutely no measurable improvement.

Sitting around doing nothing.

Not swimming.

Not playing pickleball.

Not attending an event.

Not sightseeing.

Not exercising.

Not networking.

Not "working remotely from the pool."

Just sitting.

Maybe you're in a lounge chair.

Maybe beside an RV.

Maybe around a pool.

Maybe under a tree.

Maybe beside a lake.

Drink nearby.

Towel underneath you.

Sun overhead.

And nothing particularly important happening.

In everyday life, this might make you feel guilty.

At a nudist resort?

Somehow it feels like you're doing exactly what you're supposed to be doing.

We're Terrible at Doing Nothing

Modern life has turned productivity into a competitive sport.

Wake up.

Check the phone.

Emails.

Messages.

Calendar.

Work.

Appointments.

Errands.

Bills.

Projects.

Notifications.

News.

Social media.

Family responsibilities.

House projects.

Things you forgot yesterday.

Things you're already worrying about tomorrow.

Even relaxation has become something we're supposed to optimize.

Ten-minute meditation.

Thirty-minute workout.

Read twenty pages.

Get 10,000 steps.

Meal prep.

Track sleep.

Practice mindfulness.

Apparently we now need performance metrics for resting.

Then you arrive at a nudist resort.

And somebody asks:

"What are you doing today?"

You look toward the pool.

"Nothing."

They nod.

"Sounds good."

Nobody schedules an intervention.

Doing Nothing Usually Feels Like You're Avoiding Something

Sit on your couch at home at two in the afternoon.

Within minutes, your brain starts producing assignments.

You should clean the garage.

You need to answer that email.

The lawn needs mowing.

There's laundry.

You should go to the gym.

Didn't you say you were going to organize that closet?

Maybe you should check work.

The modern brain has difficulty accepting unoccupied time.

There is always something we could be doing.

And because there's always something we could be doing, doing nothing can feel suspiciously like failure.

At a resort, the equation changes.

You left home specifically to not do those things.

That's powerful.

Then Naturism Removes Another Layer

A regular resort can certainly be relaxing.

But naturism adds an interesting ingredient.

You aren't even managing clothing.

No outfit.

No swimsuit.

No shoes, perhaps.

No wondering whether you're dressed appropriately for the pool.

No changing before swimming.

No changing afterward.

No wet bathing suit.

No concern about whether your shirt looks good.

You've removed one more category of maintenance.

You're not dressed for relaxation.

You're simply relaxing.

There's something wonderfully literal about that.

You Stop Performing "Vacation"

Modern vacations can be exhausting.

We travel somewhere beautiful and immediately begin documenting ourselves enjoying it.

Photo.

Another photo.

Better angle.

Group picture.

Restaurant picture.

Sunset picture.

Pool picture.

Post it.

Check reactions.

Where are we going tomorrow?

What attraction are we seeing?

What reservations do we have?

What did the travel guide say we absolutely cannot miss?

By the end of vacation, you need a vacation.

At a nudist resort, especially one with strong privacy and photography rules, some of that performance can disappear.

The phone may stay in the bag.

Nobody needs photographic evidence that you relaxed correctly.

You simply...

relax.

The Chair Becomes the Destination

At most vacations, the chair is where you sit between activities.

At a nudist resort, the chair may be the activity.

Morning coffee.

Chair.

Late morning conversation.

Still chair.

Someone goes swimming.

You consider it.

Remain in chair.

Lunch.

Return to chair.

Someone asks if you're coming to an activity.

"Maybe later."

You both understand this means probably not.

The chair has you now.

Conversation Arrives Without an Appointment

Then something interesting happens while you're doing nothing.

Someone walks past.

"Morning."

Morning.

They stop.

Conversation begins.

Where are you from?

How long are you staying?

Where are you headed next?

Someone else joins.

Now you're talking about RVs.

Twenty minutes later you're discussing restaurants.

Forty minutes later someone is telling a story about something that happened in 1987.

Nobody scheduled this.

Nobody sent a calendar invitation.

There was no networking objective.

No agenda.

No "hard stop at 2:30."

You were doing nothing.

And somehow nothing became something.

Time Gets Slippery

At home, you know exactly what time it is.

Your phone tells you.

Computer tells you.

Car tells you.

Microwave tells you.

Watch tells you.

Calendar definitely tells you.

At a resort, time can become less precise.

You sit down at 11:15.

Talk.

Swim.

Sit again.

Someone gets food.

You read.

Maybe close your eyes.

Then you look at the time.

3:47.

What happened?

Nothing.

That's what happened.

Four hours of glorious, undocumented nothing.

Nudity Makes Idleness Look Different

There is something visually honest about relaxing without clothing.

You're clearly not headed to a meeting.

You're not about to take a conference call.

Nobody mistakes you for someone who has urgent business.

You are unmistakably off duty.

The uniform is gone.

The shoes are gone.

The pockets containing half your daily responsibilities are gone.

You don't merely say you're taking the day off.

Your entire presentation suggests:

We are accomplishing very little today.

It's difficult to argue with the evidence.

Nobody Asks What You've Accomplished

Imagine returning home from a normal day.

"What did you do today?"

We often feel obligated to provide a list.

Went here.

Did this.

Finished that.

Took care of something.

Accomplishment proves the day was worthwhile.

Now imagine the same question after a resort weekend.

"What did you do Saturday?"

Let's see.

Sat by the pool.

Talked to some people.

Swam.

Had lunch.

Sat some more.

Took a golf-cart ride.

Had a drink.

Talked to more people.

Watched the sunset.

That's about it.

And somehow Saturday was fantastic.

Maybe a good day doesn't always need a résumé.

Your Phone Starts Looking Like Work

This may be one of the clearest signs you're actually relaxing.

You pick up your phone.

Notifications.

Emails.

News.

Messages.

Social media.

The entire outside world has been compressed into a glowing rectangle demanding your attention.

You look at it.

Then look at the pool.

Put the phone back down.

This is growth.

Five minutes later you pick it up again because you're still a modern human being.

Nobody said enlightenment happens instantly.

News Begins Feeling Very Far Away

Outside the resort, the world is happening aggressively.

Breaking news.

Arguments.

Markets.

Politics.

Deadlines.

Controversies.

Things everyone is apparently required to have an opinion about immediately.

Inside?

Someone wants to know whether anyone needs ice.

For a while, the urgent world doesn't seem quite so urgent.

It still exists.

It will be waiting when you return.

But you don't have to invite it into the lounge chair.

You Notice Things That Don't Send Notifications

Birds.

Wind moving through trees.

Water.

Clouds.

Someone laughing across the pool.

The smell of food cooking.

Sunlight changing as the afternoon moves.

Things that were always happening.

They simply couldn't compete with everything else demanding your attention.

When you stop filling every second, the quiet details become louder.

Boredom Doesn't Arrive the Way You Expect

Before spending a weekend doing very little, you might wonder:

Won't I get bored?

Maybe.

But boredom has a funny way of creating its own solutions.

You start a conversation.

Read.

Swim.

Walk.

Think.

Nap.

Watch people.

Do absolutely nothing for another twenty minutes.

Eventually you discover that constant stimulation may have trained you to mistake stillness for boredom.

They're not the same thing.

You Don't Need to Earn the Afternoon

This may be the deepest difference.

A lot of adults have learned that rest comes after productivity.

Finish your work.

Then relax.

Clean the house.

Then sit down.

Complete the project.

Then take the weekend.

Exercise.

Then enjoy lunch.

Rest becomes a reward we earn by accomplishing enough first.

But the list never ends.

So rest keeps getting postponed.

At a resort, you already gave yourself permission.

The afternoon doesn't need to be earned.

It simply arrived.

You're allowed to be there for it.

Your Body Stops Being a Project Too

Doing nothing in a naturist environment can create another kind of quiet.

You're not trying to improve your body.

Not exercising it.

Not dressing it.

Not photographing it.

Not comparing it.

Not evaluating it.

Not trying to make it look better.

Your body is simply occupying a chair.

Breathing.

Feeling the sun.

Maybe cooling off in the pool occasionally.

That's all it needs to accomplish.

For people accustomed to thinking about their bodies as perpetual improvement projects, that can be surprisingly peaceful.

Eventually Someone Suggests Doing Something

"Anybody want to play pickleball?"

Silence.

Several people look toward the court.

Then toward their chairs.

This is a significant decision.

Someone says:

"Maybe later."

The chair coalition remains strong.

Another person says they'll play.

Good for them.

We support their ambition.

From here.

The Afternoon Develops Its Own Rhythm

That's another thing you begin noticing.

Nobody needs to organize every moment.

People wander.

Someone swims.

Someone naps.

Someone drives past.

A group forms.

The group disappears.

Someone starts grilling.

Music begins somewhere.

The sun moves.

Dinner approaches.

The day unfolds without being managed.

For people who spend their working lives controlling schedules, budgets, employees, projects, families and deadlines, that lack of structure can feel almost medicinal.

Nothing needs managing.

You Start Understanding the Phrase "Just Be"

It's one of those phrases that normally sounds suspiciously like something printed on a decorative pillow.

Just be.

Fine.

But what does that actually mean?

Maybe it means sitting somewhere without needing to turn the moment into anything else.

Not productive.

Not educational.

Not profitable.

Not shareable.

Not impressive.

Not optimized.

Just experienced.

Perhaps we don't need to make it more complicated than that.

Then Sunday Arrives

This is the problem.

You finally become excellent at doing nothing.

And now you're supposed to leave.

You pack.

Clean up.

Put clothes back on.

Check your phone.

Emails have multiplied.

Notifications survived without you.

The outside world appears delighted to have you back.

You drive home.

And somewhere along the way, you realize something.

You didn't accomplish much all weekend.

But you feel better.

Lighter.

Quieter.

More rested.

Maybe doing nothing accomplished something after all.

Perhaps Nothing Isn't Actually Nothing

You talked with people.

You laughed.

You rested.

You thought.

You stopped checking the time.

You noticed the weather.

You listened.

You spent several hours without trying to improve yourself, sell yourself, explain yourself or accomplish anything.

That's not nothing.

That's life without an agenda.

And maybe that's why sitting around doing nothing feels different at a nudist resort.

The nudity helps remove the costumes.

The resort removes some responsibilities.

The privacy can reduce the performance.

The people provide conversation.

Nature provides background.

And eventually you discover something our relentlessly productive world rarely teaches us:

A moment does not have to produce something to be worth experiencing.

Sometimes the pool is enough.

The chair is enough.

The conversation is enough.

The afternoon is enough.

You are enough.

So what are you doing today?

Hopefully, for at least a little while...

Absolutely nothing.