The Practice of Sitting Still

On an early morning walk to Benjakitti Park in Bangkok, I noticed something unusual.

There were chairs lined up next to the water. Dozens of them. Maybe 50 or 60.

As I walked closer, I noticed writing in Thai on the signs attached to the chairs. I couldn't understand the words, but I recognized one thing: 30 minutes.

I remembered reading an article from Time Out Bangkok about a practice the park had introduced.

The invitation was simple:

Sit for 30 minutes and do nothing.

No reading.

No doom scrolling.

No napping.

No finding another way to stay busy.

Just sitting.

The purpose was to allow yourself to experience whatever came up — thoughts, emotions, discomfort, feelings — and simply be with them.

Can you imagine?

Just sitting with yourself by choice.

When I read about this practice, I thought: something important is being acknowledged here.

Maybe we are beginning to recognize that constant stimulation is not the same as living. Maybe we are remembering that some of the most meaningful parts of life come from reconnecting with the things we often overlook:

Nature.
Ourselves.
Each other.

Putting chairs in a park with a sign inviting people to sit quietly for 30 minutes says so much about where we are as a society. We have become so accustomed to filling every moment that we now need reminders to simply exist.

I happily accepted the invitation.

There is something about sitting near water that has always felt comforting to me.

When I lived in Chicago, my favorite place was the Riverwalk — specifically the area near Wacker and State. I would come there during my lunch break or after work and simply sit. Sometimes I watched the boats. Sometimes I people-watched. Sometimes I ate lunch.

There was energy all around me, but I felt grounded.

That space held so many different people. Some were reading. Some were resting. Some were exercising. Some were simply passing through. People from all walks of life sharing the same space, each finding their own moment of peace.

When I sat in the chair at Benjakitti Park, I noticed the gnats flying around me.

At first, they were distracting.

The sun was beginning to rise. Dawn was arriving. Soon, the gnats would disappear.

The funny thing was, they were flying around me, but they weren't actually bothering me.

I could have spent the entire 30 minutes waving them away, focusing on the annoyance.

Instead, I decided to sit.

To notice.

To allow.

That small moment became part of the practice.

I also noticed many people sitting with their phones. There were many empty chairs as well. And honestly, I found that beautiful too.

Because maybe this is what change looks like.

Not everyone embracing the practice at the same time. Not everyone understanding it immediately. But the invitation exists.

And sometimes an invitation is enough.

Over the years, I have become more comfortable simply sitting or lying down without needing a purpose or a goal.

I have noticed that some of my deepest insights come during these moments of rest. When I stop trying to control every outcome, my mind and body begin to communicate differently.

There is a release that happens.

A softening.

A feeling of coming back home to myself.

There is a peace that cannot be forced.

It can only be experienced.