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Learning to Love Boredom

·4 mins

I’m learning to get better at being bored. There have been times when I actively avoided boredom, in particular in my childhood I thought of boredom as a bad thing. I still tend to fill free time with “activities” more than I should. My go-to boredom fillers include reading, writing, taking walks, watching TV or movies (as much as I hate to admit it), and occasionally a video game (which, unlike TV, requires some degree of active participation).

But these days, I’m deliberately practicing the art of boredom. For me, being “busy” usually means reaching for something to fill the gap the second it appears. The opposite of busyness might technically be idleness, but boredom takes us a step beyond idle (perhaps this post explores both states: being bored while idle).

I find myself irritated by people who constantly claim to be “busy,” largely because busyness often serves as a convenient excuse to avoid something specific. In reality, these people are typically only “busy” avoiding whatever activity they don’t want to do. Busyness becomes the universal, unquestionable excuse to sidestep anything and everything.

My brain operates at maximum capacity all the time—especially when I’m bored. This proves advantageous because I’ve noticed my best ideas emerge during periods of boredom, which means I should maximize my boredom time. My most productive thinking happens during seemingly mundane activities:

Labeling these activities as “boring” does them a disservice. A subway ride can be twenty minutes of people-watching and reading the poem card over someone’s shoulder. You can enjoy them alone or with companions. While subway rides aren’t free, they cost significantly less than Broadway shows while offering their own unique entertainment. I’ve always appreciated riding the subway—you get construction workers, exhausted parents, teenagers, tourists staring too hard at the map, plus there’s always poetry to read on the train.

I’ve trained myself to resist reaching for anti-boredom consumption tools: podcasts, audiobooks, Reddit (thankfully, with Apollo gone, I no longer use Reddit on my phone), or random news sites. Now I consciously avoid that reflexive pocket-reach for my phone, that dumb urge to check the same apps again even when I know nothing is waiting for me there.

When you walk through New York City with your phone tucked away, the city feels different. You notice small things, and your mind has room to drift a little. It’s remarkably calming—like the most effective anti-anxiety medication but without side effects.

My two dogs (one of which, astonishingly, despises walks) make smartphone engagement during outings nearly impossible anyway. They demand my complete attention, preventing phone use even if temptation strikes. I generally only carry my phone when absolutely necessary—for extended trips or when I specifically need it (like for payments). Otherwise, I prefer leaving it behind, forcing engagement with actual reality rather than digital escape. I’m less scattered when I do that, and I stop wondering what I might be missing online.

Sometimes I consider bringing my phone to capture ideas that materialize during these boredom-induced thinking sessions—potential blog topics or insights worth preserving. But that impulse fades as I remind myself: truly valuable ideas will resurface when I’m near my MacBook, where I can document them with a proper keyboard.

Ah, boredom—like a breath of fresh air. Breaking the dopamine addiction cycle isn’t easy, but recognizing the pattern makes escape possible.

We should collectively embrace more boredom. Put the devices away. Look at clouds, buildings, trees, and whatever surrounds you during an evening stroll. Engage with friends and family without digital mediation. Try remembering what human existence felt like before our collective machine addiction—if you were fortunate enough to experience that era.

My best ideas do not show up while scrolling. They usually show up when my mind has been left alone for a while.

Our perpetually connected world has transformed boredom from a natural state into a seemingly intolerable condition requiring immediate remedy. I think that’s backward. Boredom is useful.

Next time boredom approaches, resist the urge to fill it. Leave the gap alone for a minute and see what your brain does.