I can still remember quite vividly how suffocating and dragging boredom felt when I was a kid. One toy after another would stop entertaining me the way it did in the beginning. Almost like a fading love story, I’d soon choose to abandon what I once loved in search for other dolls, stuffed animals and later on digital companions to become my new source of stimulation. When you can still count the amount of years you’ve lived on this earth on the fingers of one hand, boredom seems to last for half an eternity. The quest for new antidotes for this uncomfortable state never seemed to end. There was so much time, but so little to do, how can anyone possibly fill this fraction of infinity that feels like it’s never coming to an end?
The more fingers were needed to express my age, the busier life became. Suddenly, I had to spend a set amount of hours and days surrounded by four walls, learning about what people told me I needed to know, instead of learning about what I’d like to know. No one encouraged me to use all of this time to cultivate my curiosity, let alone my undiscovered passions. Although the scenery changed, homework was pretty much just an extension of that scenario, and I only had a couple of hours left to play before the same routine broke my illusory sense of limited infinity and endless possibilities again. Not too many years later, work alongside my education was added to the timetable, and the gaps between every subject and class I had to attend in life became increasingly smaller. Suddenly, there was no time left for boredom anymore.
Now that the pressure of age and adulthood is slowly but assuringly crushing my sense of entitlement to waste time, or rather spend it impulsively with no greater meaningful goal in mind, I crave for the privilege to be bored once in a while. My young self didn’t realise the opportunities that came with boredom. It’s like a gift of time, that can be used to fulfill other potentials, or not - but that’s exactly the freedom that lies within it. As kids, we couldn’t substitute boredom by focusing on time-consuming responsibilities or duties that come with teenage and adult life. However, we had infinite choices to do whatever we wanted with all this time that was handed out to us freely. We were arguably as liberated as a free man can possibly be.
Even if boredom isn’t transformed into time spent developing our inner self, at least it gives us the luxury to play. As negative as it sounds in a world full of workaholics, who are more likely to read books on self-help and productivity rather than reading the fascinating work of Tolstoy for pleasure, play and meaningless activities might not be as futile as they often seem. If all of our focus is directed towards work and other tasks with a measurable outcome, even if we benefit from said result, are we really putting our whole selves to use? Are we completely using all the abilities of our self’s machine, which is capable of doing so much more than producing a pay-check or a good grade at the end of the month? Contribution to society and a collective good is crucial to our well-being, but to what extent are we living not only for others, but also for ourselves, when we neglect our inner cravings for play, creativity and other hidden desires?
The most consoling part of boredom is that at least for a fraction of time, there are no responsibilities, no urgent tasks, distracting us from what we’d really like to focus on. Perhaps one of the reasons why we often find it so hard to use the time and potential that boredom brings with it, is because we are not very good at communicating with our inner selves. When there are no tasks to complete, no one else to look after other than yourself, we suddenly forget about all the other abilities of our body and mind that could in some cases bring us closer to ourselves, and in the most innocent but still unapologetic ones, make us happy. The traveller who finds himself staring out of the window of his hotel room, gazing across whatever scenery he picked for himself, has no one to ask what they’d like to fill their time with, how he could contribute to making their trip pleasant. For once, he has to ask himself what it is that he is craving for, what fascinates him and what his inner impulses tell him to do. To some it might seem like loneliness, perhaps even another burden of responsibility, but it’s also an opportunity to listen to yourself and find a source of happiness and fulfilment from a source that is much closer to you than your work or peers: yourself.
