Boredom is the Bomb! a.k.a. "Unpopular Opinion #1"

Unpopular Opinion: Boredom is the Bomb

Blank space, boredom, ZPD, processing time, let my mind wander, creativity, neural activity, live longer today, expand your time

As a child, I, much to the chagrin of my mother, was a morning person. I mean a very, very early morning person. The sun arose and so did I, though I didn’t wake as early as my grandparents. When I stayed overnight at their little house in the woods, I woke to them already in their kitchen, lights on, while everywhere else in the house and out the window, the morning still as dark as night. There wasn’t much talk but often they would have the AM radio on, prepping them for the day ahead while they washed down hard cinnamon toast with some very milky coffee, as was typical of many Finnish Americans. I was curious about what magic occurred in the predawn quiet? What significant happenings did the radio bring them? It felt a very cozy and calm way to start the day and I loved it.

At my own home a few miles away, I remember also waking curious. I hated lying in the bed waiting for a “reasonable” time to get up. I felt compelled to get outside and discover whatever was waiting for me. Often, I would quietly put on my clothes and proceed down the stairs and out the door. The dog was about the only one I didn’t mind sharing my morning with. He would creep out from the lookout post under the wooden stairs to the back door and greet me as I came out. In the Northwoods, the dog’s job was to keep away uninvited nighttime visitors, great or small. With a stretch and a tail wag, he came for his head scratch. Then he and I would take inventory of the day. I looked to the sky, to the horizon, to the treetops. I also looked at the ground and the air. What was going on above and below me? Was it going to be sunny? Warm? Breezy? What did the air feel like on my skin? Did I need a jacket or was my summer uniform of the short-sleeved t-shirt with the faded butterflies on it sufficient? What was the smell in the air? How long would it be before the musky, sweet smell of summer morning turned to that slightly sharper scent carrying the promise of drier and cooler mornings when I would be able to see my breath on the air in the early light? I saw the dew on the grass and on the not-yet-open flowers. Spiderwebs glistened. I traced with my eyes the path taken to create this phenomenon.

And I listened. A mile away I could hear the occasional semi-truck on the highway. If I listened really hard and the wind was just right, I could hear horses at the “neighbors” – if you can call them neighbors that far away. Mostly, I heard birds. Mainly wild birds but also the roosters and hens. I could tune my ears to the frequency of the flies buzzing around the chicken coop. Or cast the net further and hear the wind on the tall trees, swaying the branches and pushing the leaves back and forth, likely greeting each other.

And then the dog and I would walk, or more accurately, wander. Sometimes, we’d walk the dirt trail made along the edge of the field and go toward the “back” forty acres. Or we’d meander through the woods, following the creek bed that a month ago was filled with spring melt and wild ramps and marsh marigolds. Other times, we’d hike to the top of the hill on the back side of the gravel pit. It was the highest point for miles and I could see the way the early sun cast long, hopeful shadows in front of it, teasing the Penokee Mountains out of slumber.

The day was full of promise and I was privileged to be able to bear witness to the joy and wonder not only of the hours in front of the sun this day, but also for the anticipation of what the future of all things would hold. Yeah, I dreamed big.

And, given that things weren’t always easy at my house, that precious moment, latent with innocence and purity of the morning itself, meant there was also hope for me. As a child, never could I have articulated much of this. Certainly not the abstractions – the ridiculous irony - of how healing it was living this life that was a gift to me, in part, from the alcoholic, very unwell, man who was my father.

And, yet, that is only a part of what that “idle” time did for me, what that sort of time does for us all, when we choose to allow ourselves the luxury of boredom, of space between the words, of silences that speak volumes when we take the time to hear what we’re being told and what our connection to Oneness tells us, to see our true selves as we are in our purest form.

How about the value in solidifying actual learning? The processing that occurs in these moments of “boredom” helps to integrate new learning and awareness into existing schema. (Schema are the existing bits of info, of stories and of experiences, that form the way we currently understand our world.) Without the ability to do this integration, it is just data. Information only. To apply these new bits of info, we need to understand them in context of what else we know. It goes hand in hand with why learning by rote memorization has its place but isn’t a direct connection to higher level thinking and critical analysis.

Our brains need frequent moments like these to be able to grow. Learning becomes solidified, internalized, and incorporated into our existing schema when we allow our brains – and our bodies – to reset. Our brains, however, are not really still in these moments. I like to think about it as the “front” of the brain and the “back” of the brain (actual neuroscientists would be aghast at the loose analogy!). Think of an old sedan with the bench seat in the front and another bench seat in the back. The front seat holds the driver, the one accelerating, braking, shifting, and turning; thinking ahead, anticipating traffic, making all the decisions. Literally, in the driver’s seat of life. While it may seem that those in the back seat are just along for the ride, they are taking it all in. They see the turns and the road signs, but they also see the beach two blocks down the road on the left. They see the horizon to the front and are able to turn and watch out the rear window to see what’s been passed by and where we’ve stopped. It all looks very different from here. The driver is necessary – crucial even. And, yet, to get a full experience, the process from other vantage points provides necessary perspective.

Interestingly, those morning ceremonies of observation, of gratitude, of following my curiosity, probably were only a few moments of time, yet they somehow expanded as I fell into them and became less “me” and more “us,” with us being the dog, the sleeping family, the chickens, the trees, the sun, and the very earth upon which we wandered. The us became all things past and all possible futures and I didn’t ask why I couldn’t see more and instead communed with all that was in that moment. And those moments lasted the day and well beyond. They were where my “back seat” brain processed, analyzed, reviewed, and synthesized. It is also where my curiosity was fed, my imagination was stoked, and my hope was rekindled.

And guess what? These moments do not happen while scrolling through social media. They rarely happen while “accomplishing” stuff. They don’t happen while “multi-tasking.” They happen when you allow the blank space in your life for you: your thoughts, your essence, your perspective and your world can come back to you in those moments.

This is why it is so important for kids to be “bored.” For every parent and caregiver who has heard, “I’m bored,” here is a new response. Rather than provide a list of things to do or hand them your phone as a distraction, cheer for them! “Yay! I am so glad for you.” “I want to be bored too. Let’s be bored together.” Or, “I am hoping for boredom when I am done with this meeting.” Don’t worry about them not understanding why this blank space in their lives is good for them. They don’t need to know for it to work. It just works. They just need the space to let it all creep in.

Not only does it preserve your sanity by no longer trying to entertain and fill all their moments (by the way those moments are THEIR moments and it is not your responsibility to fill them all), it is what they need to feed their inherent curiosity and observation, but also for developing their creativity, for solidifying what they’ve heard or learned in other parts of their day, and for learning to self-soothe. They will learn to be able to manage themselves, to develop compassion for others, all without an expensive and complicated SEL (social and emotional learning) program. Don’t get me wrong, there is a need for supporting the development of SEL skills. I prefer to see this work happen when and where it naturally occurs and for it to be guided when and where it is needed, rather than during a prescribed lesson. Well-regulated children – and adults, for that matter – have been given a bit of guidance and plenty of space for reflection when practicing self-regulation and other SEL skills.

What about you? When do you recall the moments expanding? When have you dropped your conscious awareness as a result of being “bored?”