The Art of Non-Doing: Embracing a Void to Reconnect with My Essence

by Ingrid.

“You were not just born to center your entire existence on work and labor. You were born to heal, to grow, to be of service to yourself and community, to practice, to experiment, to create, to have space, to dream, and to connect.” - Tricia Hersey

For the past month, I’ve been inhabiting what I can only describe as a void—a space that feels empty, open, and at times deeply unsettling. I call it a void because that’s how it feels in my body: as though the safety carpet I was standing on has been pulled out from under my feet, leaving me floating in the unknown.

At first, this void felt unbearable, as though the ground had disappeared beneath me. But as I began to surrender to it, I realised that this void isn’t barren—it’s fertile. It’s teaching me that the value I bring to this world lies in who I am, not in what I do. And now, I can finally formulate words around it, which I want to share with you.

It all started on a Sunday evening during a somatic coaching training I’ve been enrolled in this year. My peers reflected back to me that my value lay in the presence and unconditional love that they experience in the coaching room with me. In that moment, I wondered: Could it be that my value is based on who I am, not what I do?

This realisation hit me deeply. For years, whether in my corporate career or as coach, I’ve operated from a place of “doing”—hiding behind expertise, constantly producing to create a version of myself I thought the world needed.

The safety carpet that had been pulled away was woven with stories and identities about what I thought I had to do to feel valuable. Suddenly, I found myself saying to Adrien, my husband, “I have no clue who I am anymore,” as tears streamed down my face.

It felt raw, and I felt lost—unable to produce anything for my business. Can it really be true that my essence alone is enough in this world, where success is measured by output and we have bills to pay? Although I’ve been telling myself this for years, its only now that this truth has begun to sink into my body. And, something in me knew I needed to sit in this void, in the discomfort of uncertainty, and let it teach me.

The Conflict: A Voice of Doubt and Privilege

Of course, a part of me immediately resisted this idea. There’s a voice in me that screams, Naive! Privileged white woman! How can I not be doing? How can I afford to slow down, to trust, when the world keeps moving and others are struggling?

But then, there’s another voice—a softer, yet much more powerful one. This voice tells me to keep trusting. It whispers that the peace we are all longing for requires those of us who have the capacity and physical safety today to have the courage to walk this path. A path of trust, a path of liberation from endless production and doing for the sake of doing.

We need to explore what it means to slow down and embody a different way of living. For ourselves, for our families, for our communities, for those we serve and for earth.

I’ve been in these voids before—times when I’ve let go of old stories about who I am to step into something more aligned with my true self. But this time, it feels different. I’m choosing to stay in the void, even though the urge to “do” is immediate and strong. It took weeks of sitting with it before I could even write this.

Now, what once felt like a harsh, empty space feels more like a soft, white veil being gently lifted. There is grace in this void. Spaciousness. Clarity. I see more clearly that my worth is innate—not tied to what I do or produce. I’m letting go of the story that I need to constantly do in order to be valuable and slowly stepping into a new one, where I choose deliberately and consciously what I do and when I do it.

The Void as My Liberation

This void is beginning to feel like liberation. I sense that fully stepping into it will be like removing lenses that have shown me a world of scarcity—a world where constant production equals survival and success.

Now, I see that the void isn’t something to be feared; it’s a place where I can return to my essence. Of course, it’s scary and comes with resistance. The old story doesn’t fit anymore, but the new one is still unclear.

Longing for this new way of being is challenging because I don’t know what it will look like, or how it will pay my bills. But the pull to remain in this fertile space of uncertainty is too deep to ignore. I’m trusting that what is meant to take form will emerge when the time is right. Starting this Substack page, a space for Adrien and I to explore our authentic expression, share and connect with others on a similar path is already manifestation of that which wants to emerge.

There’s a time for doing, just as there’s a time for non-doing

I’m learning that I don’t need to be a slave to the habit of doing. When I feel stuck or lost, I want to allow myself to inhabit the space between stories, as Charles Eisenstein so beautifully writes:

"In between old and new, there is an empty place…Do not be afraid of the empty place. It is the source we must return to if we are to be free of the stories and habits that entrap us."

This fertile void, the space between who I thought I needed to be and who I am, has shown me that true action doesn’t come from habit—it comes from essence.

Lao Tzu says, “Like the hollow of a cup, it is the empty space that makes things useful.” I’m discovering that the in-between is where clarity emerges. It’s not about doing nothing; it’s about doing what feels natural and unforced.

Creating From Essence?

So, what does it look like to produce or create from my essence? What does Lao Tzu mean by “non-doing”? I’m still figuring it out. For now, I know this: I don’t want to create from a place of fear or obligation. I want to create from joy and trust, knowing that what I bring into the world doesn’t define my worth—it’s simply an expression of my lived human experience and my essence. The void is teaching me that I don’t need to fill every moment with doing. There is value in the empty spaces. There is fertility in the void.

I would love to hear from you and your experience with balancing non-doing and doing.

With love,

Ingrid