It was five years ago that I learned about Senator George Shultz. The U.S. statesman and former Secretary of State was famous not only for his remarkable political achievements but also for one fascinating aspect of his daily routine that caught my attention.
Every week, Senator Shultz would carve out an hour for uninterrupted, quiet reflection. He made it a non-negotiable appointment with himself, free from distractions, where he could simply think. What made this particularly striking was not just the act itself but the consistency with which he did it. Even amidst the chaos of politics, diplomacy, and global crises, he protected this time fiercely. He once remarked that during this week, the only interruptions he would permit were from two people: the President of the United States and his wife.
The fact that Shultz was able to do this consistently every day for years—an hour of quiet, uninterrupted thought— likely contributed not only to his professional success but also to his remarkable longevity. He lived until 100 years old, a milestone that feels emblematic of someone who managed to master both the busyness and stillness of life.
To honor his legacy and acknowledge the profound wisdom behind this practice, I decided to introduce a similar habit into my own life: my own version of the “Shultz Hour.”
I began to structure an hour—or sometimes just a portion of it— every day where I commit to doing absolutely nothing. No work, no sports, no meditation, no music, no napping, no movies, no social media. While all of these activities have their own merits, what I was after was different. It was about creating space for my mind to breathe, wander, and, crucially, be bored.
Am I able to do it every day? Honestly, not yet. Mostly, I manage it on weekends, when the pace of life slows down just a bit. But do I aspire to make it a daily ritual? Absolutely. That’s the goal, and I’m committed enough that I even put it in my calendar: It’s labeled the “Shultz Hour.”
My rules for the Shultz Hour:
- No smartphone, iPad, computer, etc.
- No calls, podcasts, etc
- No activities
- A defined period of time (usually between 20 minutes to an hour, though it can be longer if I feel the need)
My Shultz Hour often coincides with enjoying a cigar. As a cigar aficionado, this combination feels natural to me. When the cigar ends, the hour (well, or the shorter period…) ends. And yes, I know what you’re thinking about the downsides of tobacco (on that point, don’t forget I’m a lawyer; I have some pretty interesting arguments up my sleeve on this topic…). But that’s not the focus here.
The real focus is on re-learning the value of “boringness,” of what the Romans called otium, the Latin term for leisure—specifically, a type of leisure that is contemplative, unstructured, and free from the pressures of productivity. This is not the kind of idleness that comes from being lazy; it’s a deliberate act of switching off the active mind, which can be just as challenging as switching it on. Perhaps even more so.
We often overlook the fact that some of the most groundbreaking discoveries were born from periods of what might seem like “doing nothing.” Newton discovered gravity while sitting under a tree (well, at least according to the legend). Einstein developed the theory of relativity not in a lab but while daydreaming about what it would be like to ride a beam of light. Similarly, the structure of DNA (the helix) was famously understood during a casual conversation over a beer, or, as another story goes, while one of the scientists watched a golf ball spin.
These moments of seemingly aimless thought are where creativity thrives. It’s in the gaps between focused work that our minds can make unexpected connections, leading to those flashes of insight that simply can’t be forced.
In a world obsessed with efficiency and constant stimulation, deliberately embracing stillness and boredom might seem counterintuitive, even uncomfortable. But we should recognize that it is precisely in those moments of quiet that our best thinking often happens. The Shultz Hour is not just a break from work—it’s an invitation to deeper thinking, to letting the mind wander freely enough to stumble upon new ideas, or simply to rest.
So, yes, I’m committed to making the Shultz Hour a daily habit. In an age where “busyness” is often worn as a badge of honor, there’s something quietly revolutionary about reclaiming time just to think—or not think at all.
