Maybe Boring is Good?

Boring is good.

Is it true?

Interestingly enough, the algo-rhythms have been serving me this message as of late—though, to be fair, I’m not sure they can actually control the actual hardback book by Amie McNee that I am reading, which had a chapter on that basic premise this morning:

“In a world where we are constantly stimulated and have ample distractions, we are no longer used to sitting in boredom… But over time I’ve come to learn that boredom, like inspiration, is an integral and holy part of my creative practice.”

Ironically, as I am sitting here, writing this, I am…well, a bit bored.

It is so much more fun, more interesting, to chase after the shiny things…and there is always a new shiny thing - something more exciting, more fulfilling, something that promises.

Perhaps that is partly what has led me, in the past decade and a half since moving to Baja, to learn permaculture gardening, rainwater harvesting, composting, value investing, money management, online business, hospitality and tourism, and, of course, horsemanship. Learning new things is not all bad - I love learning! But there is also value in being ‘bored’ every now and again.

I remember being ‘bored’ as a kid—but the thing is, I didn’t consider it boring. Sitting in the back of our old Ford van, driving down to Mexico for the weekends—a drive that took four hours even though it was only about 150 miles.

My parents had their stops to make—a stop at the rest stop, just twenty minutes from home, to use the bathroom and have a Pepsi and some corn chips.

A stop to get gas and Mexican car insurance in San Ysidro before crossing the border—and an ice cream vending machine where I got the treat of an ice cream sandwich.

A stop at the bakery in Rosarito for (hopefully) fresh-from-the-oven bolillos—we had butter in the cooler for just such an occasion—eating those fresh, hot bolillos that melted the butter down your fingers.

Another stop at the curios stands south of Rosarito—looking for dishes, dresses, and for me, rusted old horseshoes (why? I don’t know - other than to say perhaps it was a foreshadowing of things to come).

But in between all those stops, I simply sat in the back of the van, listening to the Mighty 690 on the AM radio hoping for 9 to 5 to come on, and simply was. Just pondering. Doing nothing. ‘Bored.’

When do we ever have moments of boredom in our world today?

Even walking the dogs through the trails of the estuary each morning I find myself reaching for my phone—just to check. Check what? To see if something has happened since a minute ago when I checked it?

I remember taking my phone on one of my hiking trips to the backcountry of the Sierra Nevada in California. I didn’t take it for the phone—there is no service out there. I took it as a lighter camera, having learned the year before that my heavy DSLR camera was a bit much for the ultralight backpacking trip.

It wasn’t until about day three of that backcountry trip that I finally managed to stop reaching for my phone—not because there was a photo, but simply out of habit. It’s why I stopped wearing a watch decades ago—I realized that I was almost compulsively checking it, not actually registering the time, more of a nervous twitch to keep looking at it. That’s easy, I thought. I’ll just ditch the watch. It’s why I also have the clock on my oven set incorrectly, on purpose—again, I used to check it compulsively, not really registering the time.

Of course, I still have a cell phone that is ready to let me know anything I’d like (or anything I’ve never considered, but it deems essential) at the touch of its screen.

But, the thing is, when we don’t give ourselves a chance to be ‘bored’ we don’t get that time to reset. When we don’t give ourselves a break from the stimulations, or overstimulation, we lose something.

What is it that is lost? Because we are always told if we disconnect we will lose - something. FOMO, you better stay connected! You better not leave the phone at home! What if you need something? We are told that we lose if we disconnect. But the reverse is often true - we lose if we don’t disconnect.

What is it that is lost?

The ability to simply be. To consider. To ponder. To be open. To be empty.

When we are always stimulated we are always full—there is no room for creativity to find us, for delight to surprise us, for connection to meet us.

This is part of what has been so amazing about the horsemanship piece of my journey. It is the gift the horses give us—the invitation, the ability, the opportunity, to be. Just to be. Not to do. Not to become. To be. And, in that being, to allow ourselves a reset.

When was the last time you allowed yourself to be truly, beautifully bored? What is the “shiny thing” tempting you away from the quiet right now? I’d love to hear your thoughts!