Boredom. The scourge of childhood. At least, it used to be. I remember long drives in the backseat of the car, all the way across the country with only the horizon for company. Telephone wires that looped up and down, up and down. Static on the radio. Windows rolled down, because there wasn’t any air conditioning. Seat belts? Optional. I might pick up a book or a crossword puzzle, but I’d inevitably put it down due to car sickness. Sometimes, I’d get a bloody nose.
Sound dreary? I probably thought so at the time, but looking back now, what I experience is space, freedom. The monkey mind, as they call it in the East, settles down after a while. The moment widens, notices, breathes.
We have a dearth of this kind of freedom and space in our present age. My childhood experience of the endless drive is now all but extinct. First, the TV arrived, implanted into the back of the front seat to provide the equivalent of the in-flight movie. Then, the hand-held device, and finally, the smart phone, so that we need never have an unoccupied moment again.
And, for many of us, we don’t. We feel that emptiness coming on and reach for our constant companion. The mind bends itself to the information before it, looks down — the horizon disappears. And unless you notice the loss, unless it makes you look up again and say, wait, you’re hooked.
I think the awareness of what we’re losing is our best defense against the extinction of our interior horizons. I find myself, increasingly, resisting click bait. The algorithms have my number, but I know I’m being used. They have computed me and will deliver content that is the equivalent of my personal brand of crack cocaine. Don’t I want to know about The War Game That Could Have Ended the World? That sounds interesting. Important even. A Facebook friend has just posted an update. I wonder how many likes my last post got? I better check my texts, my instant messages, my email accounts.
Is it any wonder I long for abandoned lots?
I’m an anachronism. Stubbornly so. But I think everyone can relate to what I’m saying. We all feel that loss a little bit, even the child who shouldn’t know what she’s missing, having been born with an iPhone in her hand. Can you long for something you’ve never had? I think you can, because our humanity does not live in the device, in the soundbite, the instant gratification of consuming data — and it never will. Click bait may be engineered to hack our brain chemistry; it may satisfy superficial appetites, but we will always hunger for a reality that is more substantial. We will hunger for ourselves, for space, freedom, communion with the moment, and this is a good thing. The hunger reminds us of who, and what, we are.
Boredom. What does it mean to you?
Recovering from illness and needing to rest, I found myself with that same kind of restlessness and impatience that we call boredom. I found myself looking around at what was in the room, out the window, the sounds all around me, and my internal sensations, thoughts and feelings. It gave me pause for though I was ever so grateful to have my energy return as time passed, learning to be still was quite a revelation and liberating. Thanks again for your thoughtful and stimulating post!
You are one of my beacons in this regard. I think you’ve always been someone who is drawn to going into the moment. Thank you for giving me that distinction!
Sometimes it feels like the more I intend to accomplish with my days, the harder it is to get through the list. With the in-fill of mindless scrolling getting useless information to fill vacant moments, it’s easy to wonder where the time goes. My sense is “boredom” creates a frame of reference for our lives and we are risking losing an important touchstone. Thanks you for such an inciteful reminder of what we know to be true.
Why hello! So nice to see you here! Well said. As we both know all to well, being an effective and productive person is a double-edged sword. Thanks for walking that fine line with me!
Thanks, Jul! I appreciated your comments. And while it is true that the experience of having to recover from health issues was a good teacher for me, I realized there is more for me to say about this interesting post. Having grown up in a stubbornly analog family in the midst of the 50’s television/ad culture, I can easily relate to the issues you raised. Though I have grown to enjoy the gifts of our technological culture, the helpfulness of being aware of the loss is a really important conversation to be helping people to have.
That is a really interesting point, because although we are at a crossroads now, as a child you experienced the passing of a different set of older values and ways of life — the resourcefulness associated with being a farm wife, for instance, like your grandma. All those skills she had, and all the relationships that revolved around farm life. And it’s valuing these passing things, reaching backwards to keep what matters, that characterizes the analog impulse. Thanks for adding another layer!
Ah, memories of those long trips sans AC, seatbelts and all things electronic. One could daydream. One could sing inane songs with one’s family. One could create scenarios to fit the changing (or unchanging) landscape. Or, one could pester one’s siblings until the car got pulled over with threats of turning around and going home instead of to the intended vacation destination. I, too, had a childhood free of electronic devices, other than the transistor radio I received for my 11th birthday. And that certainly didn’t work in the car. Now during this pandemic, my escapes of fantasy occur in the solitude of my walks in Nature. I find myself walking and walking these days, as if to escape the madness of our time. I savor the alone time. I bask in Nature’s beauty, in her sounds- bird calls and crackling leaves skittering across the pavement. I allow Nature’s peace to seep into my soul. This cannot happen if one is constantly connected to some device. I don’t call it boredom; I call it peace.
NANCY. Oy, I have feathers for brains. Thank you for your email 🙂 Reflecting on your comment, I can’t help but picture your house with it’s very present, somewhat Asian sensibility. If we stray a bit from the idea of “boredom” to emptiness, or space, I immediately think of the Japanese culture with it’s emphasis on mindfulness and nature. And I think of that when I think of you.
We had another lovely walk here today. Seattle in fall is really quite beautiful, blustery, with so many lovely fall colors. Thinking of you!