Earlier in parenthood when my kids came to me, sulking, and said “Daaaddddd, I’m borrreeedddd!” I’d wrack my brain for a list of things they could be doing instead of complaining. I realized this wasn’t particularly helpful because, in coming up with a list of “solutions” to their weary state, I’d immediately build my own list of things I was hopelessly behind on. I created a self-fulfilling prophecy: their listlessness amplified my guilt.
When did an unclaimed minute become a moral failing? OK, that’s a little harsh. But somewhere along the way we decided empty time was a defect to be fixed rather than a resource to be utilized. That the space it created was an underutilized gap that, left unfilled, was a missed opportunity.
I think in our 21st century doomscrolling sensory overload we have lost the intent of boredom. And we’ve forgotten that, for our kids, boredom is healthy. In fact, its presence is, itself, teachable. Its absence, detrimental.
I want to make the case for being bored.
Boredom makes us more creative. The brain doesn’t clock out when nothing’s asked of it. It wanders, stitching together old memories, low-grade worries, and half-baked ideas we’d never connect on purpose. Our brain has a mind of its own. In one study out of the University of Central Lancashire, people who first spent time copying phone numbers (riveting stuff) went on to dream up more inventive uses for a pair of plastic cups than those who skipped the drudgery. Like a prisoner with nothing to lose, the dullness wasn’t the roadblock. It was the runway.
Boredom is honest. Even when the truth may be uncomfortable. It isn’t a malfunction, it’s a message. Bored at work, in a friendship or love life? That’s information. Perhaps inelegant and nonsensical. It may not be steering us to the answer of why, but it’s likely giving us necessary context we missed being busy.
Boredom builds muscle. The ability to entertain yourself, to walk into an unstructured space and create something from it, is a product of exercise. Sure, some people are naturals, but most of us need some level of uncomfortable coaxing. Kids who are never allowed to be bored never get the reps. And now, in today’s social media cesspool, which lacks a tremendous amount of useful social cues, adults don’t either.
Boredom is real rest. Not the mindless scrolling kind. It’s intentional, recuperative space. It doesn’t mean you’re entering into some meditative bliss, it just means you’re giving yourself some space and oxygen.
Our kids seem to find boredom without fail, so how do us adults create boredom that ultimately feels, well, productive? The kind that won’t spiral our mind into anxiety created by the, well, nothingness? It takes some reps.
- Put it on the calendar. That’s right. A scheduled block to be unscheduled.
- Ditch the phone. Set that phone lock, leave it in a bag or another room. Chances are, no one will miss you if you’re gone for twenty minutes. Not even a nagging child.
- Choose low-stimulation activities. Take a walk without headphones, stare out a window, sit on the porch, wash dishes in silence, or do the commute without a podcast. Repetitive, undemanding tasks are ideal.
- Expect the first 5 to 10 minutes to be awful. That restless feeling is the urge to reach for stimulation, and it usually fades if you outlast it. Set a minimum time so you don’t quit at the peak of your internal argument.
- Leave the gaps empty. Waiting for coffee, standing in checkout, these in-between tasks are free practice. Just don’t fill them.
- Keep some paper nearby. Ideas often show up and it can help to jot them down. I love the idea of a little notebook (my dad had a name for this: a nerdbook). The trick here is, don’t go searching for things to write. If they arrive, honor them.
- Don’t rescue kids from it. When they say “I’m bored,” resist the tablet and the activity suggestion. Kids have a funny way of creating from nothing, and it doesn’t take long. Their imagination is powerful.
- Repeat it. A regular time and place works better than an occasional heroic attempt, since the skill builds slowly. It may not step up to “brushing your teeth” monotony, but that’s OK.
The next time life hands you a dead minute, or if you go and create it yourself, don’t fill it. Sit there. Be boring: no, be bored. Your phone will survive. Your inbox will survive. Your kids will survive (and ultimately thrive).
And you might just meet the person who’s been patiently waiting behind all that noise.
—
iStock image
