The Lost Art of Being Bored
We’ve forgotten how to be bored. It seems to me growing up in the long hot summers of the Arizona heat, my friends and I were on a near-eternal quest to find things to do and stay out of the scorching sun. Swimming pools were a common default. As was finding schools, parks or golf courses that would be running their cannon-pressured sprinklers.
Yet, it felt like 95% of our time, we were generally bored out of our minds. And that was just fine. Creative achievements were almost inevitably born from these moments. We played Dungeons and Dragons. We played card games. We made up board games.
And before I hike my pants up to my nipples, snap my suspenders, and growl about how great things were “Back in My Day,” let me remind you that I am old enough to remember days where cell phones didn’t exist. Hell, I remember the days when computers didn’t exist. And, yes, we were better, and also worse for it.
Now, I am no luddite. I love technology. I am fascinated with the incredible achievements that technology has made in even the last decade. I am wowed by all the positive influences technology has had on modern day life. I am thrilled by the potential that technology has to continue evolving our society
But I yearn for a time when doing nothing was actually something. When ideas were allowed to emerge. To grow. To manifest into something. Or when daydreaming was a worthy way to pass the time.
The little goblins in our pocket are always tempting us. Begging for us to engage with them at every silent moment. Any down time is perceived as a problem that needs to be solved. Immediately. I see it at the grocery store, customers waiting to check out cannot bear to do nothing for the two and a half minutes while standing in line. The simple act of people waiting for the elevator doors to part causes an instinctive reach toward the back pocket to fish for their demon device.
I see it at the grocery store, customers waiting to check out cannot bear to do nothing for the two and a half minutes while standing in line. The simple act of people waiting for the elevator doors to part causes an instinctive reach toward the back pocket to fish for their demon device. You see it everywhere - waiting at a stop light, walking in nature with ear buds while listening to a podcast.
If a couple is eating in a restaurant, if they are disciplined enough to have an actual conversation together without engaging with their phones, watch what happens when one of them gets up to use the bathroom. SNAP! The phone immediately comes out.
And I am just as guilty as anyone. Well, maybe not quite as guilty as I used to be.
(I fully appreciate the irony that I used my phone to take this picture. I immediately put it away. I promise)
I don’t care if people think I’m a whacko or a mental patient when I just sit and stare at nothing in a coffeeshop. I even resist the temptation to scrawl on my notebook (in a very analog way). I walk around the neighborhood lake with my device securely at home and try to engage the other walkers with a smile or conscious eye contact and a hello. The neighborhood sociopath - I know.
I’ve also gotten better at being bored. I don’t fill my calendar with wall to wall meetings. Nor do I overcomplicate my To Do list. I have allowed myself to move more slowly. To be more deliberate. To be able to sit still in the silence. To really do nothing. Not practice meditation. Not engage in breathwork. Nothing but simply observe my environment. And this is a hack in itself. By doing nothing, I have accomplished actually doing something.
It turns out boredom is just a symptom of empty space. When I actually give into the empty space I realize that I am not actually bored at all. The food somehow tastes better. The birds' songs are louder and more beautiful. Creative thoughts flood my brain. I had forgotten how easy it is to feel the breeze on my skin. I leave conversations remembering what’s actually been said. Our devilish electronic distractions have become just that - distractions from life, from allowing our senses to ignite.
My advice - Be bored more often. You may discover that you never even were.
