A Gentle Guide to Boredom

It's the strangest feeling, isn't it? It reminds me of an emotion, but rather than residing in the heart, it's in the mind. How does it work for you? Perhaps you need to slow down enough to induce it in yourself, to gather accurate data on what is actually happening when you feel this way.

To me, it feels as if my brain is searching for something to pay attention to, and is coming up short. It wants to be immersed, and is finding nothing it deems valuable to be immersed in. Sometimes when it's been long enough, I start feeling pained from being denied the state of mind I so desperately want to inhabit. Maybe I am pained by having to be within myself. It can be difficult to tell.

I know a lot of people for whom their own company is the worst company they could have, so they try to do as much as they can to escape it. Being as young as you are, you might not have developed this desire to be free from yourself. But if this is something you relate to, you don't have to despair. Strangely, the very mind that we want to run away from can be shaped into what we desire.

You know how much I love asking questions. Even to the point where the answer sometimes does not concern me. I do not want to get myself off track—but it is always helpful for me to remember that asking questions has led me down the path of wisdom.

Anyway, do you ever run away from yourself? You don't have to answer me, I just want you to mull over it. Is that running where your boredom comes from?

If you don't like your own company, what kind of company would you like to have within yourself?

I've noticed that there are times when I like no company but my own, and times when I like no company at all. Isn't it wonderful how that works? When I am okay with my own company, but still not desirous of it, I often realize what I am truly looking for is a moment of stillness. In my experience, the most effective method of finding stillness is to intentionally not look for anything. It's an interesting parallel to boredom, where I am only looking for things. If you want, you can give meditation a try with me. It's quite simple, as I've already revealed how to do it. All it consists of is not looking for anything. It can be difficult, but with practice you may find it becomes easier, even effortless. I find a lot of things are like that if you try them.

I have also found success in focusing on something specific, while not looking for anything else. Like your breath, or a point in your field of view ahead. You don't have to try this, but you may join me if you desire. If you do, let me know afterward how you felt. Were you able to find stillness?

On days like today, I find this exercise particularly difficult. There's too much beauty in this world, and all I want to do is think about it. I love folding all the beauty within myself, the fruitless effort of trying to comprehend it.

I find that this is also a very good response to boredom. There is beauty everywhere, waiting to be noticed. My brain so easily ignores all the details and little pieces of beauty, and you might notice that yours does the same. But it doesn't mean the beauty isn't there, woven within the details of your surroundings.

I love looking for the details that I usually overlook. I start with the things that are closest to me, and I look at them closer than I usually do. For me that usually involves getting physically closer to these things than I usually do. I'm always able to discover something that I've never noticed before, or at least something that has slipped my mind until I have discovered it again.

Here I usually feel compelled to describe something to you, and have its awe bathe you while you ponder it. I think we can do better, however. If you choose, look at something closer than you ever have. It doesn't matter what it is. And just keep looking, and noticing the details of the thing. Maybe find that thing right now. As you keep looking, you may notice yourself in awe. This has been created. And you get to observe it. All of its details.

This is something that exists.