In defense of boredom

This time last year I experienced a number of poignant moments on a road trip through the American Southwest, though it’s a moment that felt trivial then that sticks with me now. I was camping in a stunning sprawl of evergreens pinched between copper colored cliffs, Arizona’s Oak Creek Canyon, when a pang of loneliness hit. I had been waiting to camp there for years but couldn’t see past the loneliness and anxiety. Nothing would console me, not even the laughter of children playing with a puppy a few campsites over. So I drove north to Flagstaff, leaving the natural beauty for the familiarity of a suburban Barnes and Noble.

I remember that experience so vividly because I’ve realized that what actually overwhelmed me wasn’t the loneliness but that I was bothered by it. I was anxious about the difference between my projection of what a 31-year-old man on a road trip should be doing — enjoying himself — and what was actually happening. I was bothered by feeling bored, and being lonely was the story my mind cooked up to avoid that feeling.

What makes us suffer is how we relate with painful and difficult emotions. We try to evade them or make them go away, which is the work of ego, that part of us that searches for solid ground and permanent comfort. Our near constant search for nonexistent solid ground adds that layer of suffering that we’re all familiar with, the loneliness, shame, guilt, craving, and so on.

Try to turn towards the boredom the next time you feel it — the path is actually through the pain.

Boredom is the first sign that you’re not in control of much of anything. It’s the purest evidence of ego. It’s also one of the easiest emotions to work with, so what we’re doing when we meditate is putting ourselves in a situation in which we easily get bored. But instead of escaping on to Facebook or email, you get to watch yourself escape into thoughts. You might start thinking about your to-do list or replaying a conversation — I shouldn’t have said that. But because they are just thoughts and not a smart phone or computer screen, it’s easier to notice that you’re lost in them.

The work of unraveling ego involves learning how to stay put when difficult emotions come up. Sometimes the emotions are too painful, and we do what we must. We call a friend or escape into a bowl of ice cream. But by practicing meditation and learning how you, in particular, have been conditioned to escape — for me, it’s crafting storylines about being absolutely, utterly alone — you can begin to turn towards the difficulty rather than away from it. And, as always, if the stove is too hot when you touch it, pull your hand away — this is a practice.

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