The Badassery of Boredom

When was the last time you were absolutely, completely, undeniably bored? Like so bored that time felt like it was dragging more than RuPaul? I bet it’s been a while. We are living in the age of distraction and most of us have forgotten what it’s like to be bored out of our minds.

I want you to take a trip back in time...pre-internet, social media, and Netflix. Remember what it was like to wait for a flight without being able to browse through your phone? Or to stand in line somewhere and the only option was to stare at the back of the person’s head standing in front of you?

We killed time with the most basic and brutal weapons. It’s not like it is now, where we basically perform a mass genocide on the moment by endlessly scrolling, podcasting, or streaming. Not long ago, there was a time when the only form of entertainment was our thoughts. We may look back and cringe at how unproductive and dreadful it was. But we’re forgetting something important. Just beyond the boredom was a hidden gift that only revealed itself when we sat with our discomfort long enough. Do you remember what it was?

As a kid growing up in the late 80s/early 90s, there was a lot of downtime. The internet wasn’t really a thing and we didn’t have an infinite number of shows to watch on-demand. Video games were simplistic and pixelated and computer games were limited to The Yukon Trail or some other clunky educational software that stalled out every other minute. Don’t even get me started on long car rides...With the only form of entertainment coming from the view outside the backseat window, going anywhere felt like an absolute eternity. “Are we there yet?” was desperately pleaded instead of being asked out of curiosity.

I grew up in the ‘latch key kid’ generation, which meant I was alone a lot and had to figure out how to entertain myself. Most of my youth was spent outside, wandering around the woods with my dog as I pretended to be an explorer with the highly envied skillset of MacGyver. I may or may not have even rocked his quintessential mullet at one point in time.

I think back to those years growing up, relentlessly bored, yet the most creative and imaginative I had ever been. I believed there was magic hidden just beneath the surface of reality. Undiscovered worlds in my mind came to life as I waited at a restaurant after tic tac toe or MASH grew tiresome. Back then, parents never ordered the kids’ food first as a way to prevent meltdowns. Instead, you were forced to sack up and wait on your best behavior with some broken crayons and a paper placemat. So as a way to distract myself, I pretended the floor was lava, the server was an alien, or I was a dog in a human body. Weird shit, I know, but it made the act of waiting fun. Come to think of it, it made life fun.

Being bored made me curious. I would come up with backstories for the people around me and wonder what they were thinking, where they were from, what they wanted for Christmas. During the countless afternoons that I spent exploring outside, I’d come across plants and animals (and the occasional rattlesnake) and observe them, wondering what life was like for them. Did they have kids? Were they happy? Was it hard to deep throat everything you ate? By being curious about the world around me I was more present. I saw little details in the nature that surrounded me that filled me with awe.

Just a few short decades ago, we had to use our imaginations for the sake of entertainment instead of the constant flow of distraction we’ve grown so accustomed to today.

For the last couple of years, I’d walk my dog down the street and hardly noticed the things around me because I was in another world entirely–podcasts playing through my headphones, feeding my mind no doubt, but still taking me away from the present. I figured I would multitask and take advantage of those 30-45 minutes and learn something new. I did the same when driving places or waiting in line. Pop on a podcast or audiobook, crank up some music, and let my mind effortlessly drift away.

Distraction isn’t just at our fingertips, waiting patiently for us to choose to partake. Instead, it's aggressively grasping at our limited attention, competing against all of the other apps, podcasts, shows, etc. for our most valuable asset–our time.

I started to notice that I rarely spent any time without some form of distraction. I was never just with my thoughts. Sometimes, I’d catch myself watching a show on Netflix and if there was a lagging scene I would pull out my phone and browse Instagram. Occasionally I would be watching a movie with my laptop open in an attempt to multitask. We think we’re bored when the distraction isn’t straight up slapping us in our face so we throw on another layer of distraction. We may justify it by thinking we are being productive multitaskers but that’s total bullshit. We’re half present, and as a result, half living.

Several months ago, I decided to stop bringing headphones on my walks. I wouldn’t even put on music. I would use the time to just be with my thoughts. I realized that besides when I was in the shower, it was the only time I was giving myself the gift of boredom. At first, it was awful. I felt like I was wasting time that could’ve been spent growing my mind in some way. But after the third silent walk, I began to experience the gift of boredom again. I stopped spending the time reviewing my to-do lists or work problems and, instead, I started to notice.

I once again able to see the world around me. I observed the chipmunks quirky and playful way of finding food. I was comforted by the way the wind sounded as it gently blew through the towering pines overhead.

My curiosity was coming back. I decided to bring a small notebook to write down the questions that would pop up as I discovered my neighborhood with fresh eyes. Shortly after, the creativity and imagination that had been tucked away for years began to appear, almost shyly at first. Ideas and insights started out as a slow trickle, but with each walk, their frequency and profundity began to expand. I made it past the barrier of boredom and was enjoying the gift that total presence provides.

Without self-imposed distractions I freed my mind and was once again able to see the magic in the ordinary, realizing that when we stop being half-present, we start to finally live fully.