My younger daughter loves to stare out of the window. She once said that she thinks, in a former life, she was a cat who spent its days on the windowsill, gazing at the trees. I know how she feels. Wherever I live, or go on holiday, I have to find a tree to stare at. When I can gaze out of a window and up into the branches of a tree – one or many – I am content.

I can still remember the tree I looked out at as a very small child, before the age of four. Now I’m spoiled. I live opposite a little park in East London, so trees are plentiful, and I gaze at them daily.

I’ve been enjoying this winter season – to my own surprise – largely, I think, because we’ve been lucky enough to have so many days of bright blue sky. This gives the bare silhouettes of the trees a perfect backdrop. Every skeletal tree is shown off at its best, Van Gogh–like, against such a clear blue sky.

And what does this tree gazing do for me? It puts me at peace. It stops me searching for something else to do. It allows me simply to stare. As I stare, I process things that are happening in my life – the dreams I’ve been having, for instance. Gazing at trees doesn’t demand this of me; it’s just something that happens while I’m gazing. Sometimes things become clearer. My priorities, for example – I might suddenly realise there’s something I need to say to a dear friend, or a conversation I need to have with someone in my family. Tree gazing works as a form of meditation for me, I think.

I heard an item on the lunchtime news today about boredom. Writer and lecturer Sandy Mann was commenting on how many people are afraid of boredom, and so constantly seek stimulation. Yet this endless search can lead to negative thoughts. By contrast, she pointed out that when we are bored, we are led into our own minds for stimulation – and that can lead to creativity. I agree with her so much on this. It’s a skill to know how to turn boredom into another world within.

Personally, I make a distinction between ‘boredom’ and ‘doing nothing’. Doing nothing, when it’s structured and allowed, is the stuff of creativity. It gives us freedom to let our minds graze. And this is where staring at trees comes in for me.

Why don’t I feel bored when I stare at a tree? Because it’s calming. It draws me in. It doesn’t force me or block me in any way. For me, boredom is not the same as doing nothing. Boredom is the uncomfortable feeling of not being able to gaze, think, or imagine – and not being able to escape the situation for whatever reason.

Someone once told me that one of the most important things young children learn when they are taken to their place of worship is how to be bored!

Perhaps that’s where I first learned to go into my own head. Maybe I stared at the light through the stained-glass windows and was transported. I feel no antipathy towards those early church memories. Quite the opposite. Later on, in my teens, staring out of the window of my English classroom while something was read aloud, I learned to gaze at trees. I wasn’t trying to avoid the lesson – far from it. I went on to study English literature at university. Those memories of finding the trees outside the English classroom window are good ones, restful ones.

So my question, as we start 2026, is this: how can we encourage our young people to give themselves the time and space to learn how to transcend the now and enter the ever-resourceful realm of their own minds?

For the gazers, the daydreamers, the writers, the conjurers of ideas, the problem-solvers, the risk-takers – let’s make 2026 a time to celebrate the chance to be rather than do; a chance to gaze, to stare, and to venture into the world of imagination. For, as W. H. Davies put it:

“What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare”

 

Based in Leytonstone, London, Julia Caddick is a dynamic voice and presentation coach with over 30 years of experience in music, theatre, and communication. She helps business leaders, teams, and individuals deliver clear, authentic, and impactful presentations—both in person and online.