The first time I heard the word “puttering” was in reference to my grandfather when I was about eight. My grandfather loved being at home, so much so that he complained about even eating dinner at restaurants. He had a few places that he liked to travel and a handful of hobbies, but mostly he liked to spend his leisure time puttering around his house. He would visit his workroom to fix the broken items that had accumulated on his workbench or check his vegetable garden for weeds.
He was on to something. There is nothing quite like having an empty morning stretching before you and nowhere you have to be, knowing you can be at home and do as you wish. Rarely am I alone at home at this stage of life, but when the stars align and it happens, I savor it. My heart rate slows down and my breathing calms in the quiet, empty house as I roam about, and I am pretty sure that the physical and mental effects are close to what I achieve in a massage or therapy session.
Puttering provides a physical outlet, a welcome reprieve from all of the knowledge and stationary work I do in the office. It feels good to move a little dirt around in the yard or to rearrange furniture or try a new organization system for my bathroom vanity drawer. While not as passive as watching TV or scrolling my phone, puttering is not taxing either. I am engaged enough in the task at hand that my mind does not spiral into endless worry but it will sometimes drift until I need to regain focus. I have worked out some of my biggest problems while wiping out a sink or sorting through the pantry. I have some of my best ideas while hanging pictures on the wall or swapping out throw pillows.
Because most of my life is so structured, I welcome those moments when I am not racing against the clock or sticking to a tight schedule. I may have an idea of what I want to get done, but when I am puttering, it is okay if I do not finish. Perhaps this is one of the reasons I strongly hold that puttering has mental health benefits. In a world that prizes productivity and hurry and extroversion and fanfare, puttering is the very opposite of all of those things: slow, unhurried, unproductive, unglamorous. Puttering does not require the same level of concentration or commitment as meditation (and that is some of its benefit—it is so accessible that I need little willpower or fortitude to start), but it reminds me that being is as important as doing.
I can notice now when I am likely to feel overtaxed or irritated. Stress is not always predictable—bad weather changes plans, an unforeseen health crisis emerges, a family emergency erupts—but for me, I can sense the stress that comes from being too scheduled, too “on” all the time. When there is no white space in my calendar, when there is little time to be alone, when I am hardly in my own home, I will feel the effects. I do not always have the answer to these overly full seasons, but I at least can anticipate them coming. I identify the next blank space on the calendar and protect it at all costs. I prepare to stay home in cozy clothes, makeup-free, and putter. And I swear, after those fews hours, everything seems manageable again.
Very true and necessary for me as well!