A Spiritual Practice for Boredom

 “I’m Bored!” I would complain to my Dad when I was little. “How could anyone ever be bored?” He would invariably reply “There’s so much to think about!” And yet boredom naturally arises from time to time. For many folks it is arising quite frequently these days when so many of our usual activities are curtailed.

I once used the word “bored” in therapy and my therapist suggested “sometimes when we feel bored it means there is something we don’t want to look at.” So I tried that on- whenever I felt bored I would ask myself “is there something I would rather not look at behind the boredom?” I began to notice that often this was true- that if I took a moment to sink down into myself, a feeling, a memory would arise that invited a deeper look. It might be challenging to explore more deeply, but at least it wasn’t boring!

I tried this with people- when I found someone boring to listen to, I would try to listen more deeply, and sometimes it worked! A fascinated audience does sometimes bring out a more interesting conversation. Often when it doesn’t work it’s because the person who is speaking is bored with what they are saying- they are not engaging deeply with what they are saying and so it is boring no matter how hard I listen.

Sometimes when I’m bored these days, it’s a sign pointing me towards unused energy and creativity. This often happens on a Saturday afternoon after a long work week. My partner and I are recent empty nesters, and the shock of having a few hours to do whatever I want is still novel. I find I just have to be bored for a while before some inspiration strikes me- a new dish to cook, an adventure to plan. Often if I simply settle in on my porch, resigned to boredom, some fascinating new bird will come to my bird feeder, and I am bored no longer.

Another pattern I’ve noticed is that I often feel bored during transitions- some part of me is arriving somewhere new, and I am bored as I wait for the rest of myself to arrive. When I go on retreat without my phone or computer there is invariably a time of acute boredom at the beginning of the retreat as I settle in. After months of wishing I had my full time and attention to give to Spirit, having no other demands pulling at me feels a bit unsettling, boring even. But as I settle into this more spacious way of being ideas, feelings, inspirations invariable flow in to fill the space.

Often there is another patch of boredom at the end of a retreat day, when I have already prayed and read and walked and there is literally nothing left to do. I feel guilty that I SHOULD be doing something with this precious retreat time, but eventually remember that the spiritual life is not really about doing anything. The things we do are just touchstones, guides on the journey. When I am finally empty of worries, feelings, curiosities and am just empty and still, it is a moment I often recall later with wonder when I am back in my regular life- “how could I ever have been so empty? So Still? With no needs or wants, just being?”

In the coming month I invite you to notice boredom when it arises and consider it as an invitation. Where might the feeling of boredom be inviting us? Is it inviting us to listen or look more deeply at what we are experiencing? Is it inviting us to notice that this experience no longer serves us and it’s time to walk away? Is it the seed of some creative new project waiting to be born? Is it time to listen for the slow quiet speech of the spirit? Or is it simply inviting us to be grateful for the spaciousness of a quiet empty moment? This month let boredom be like a meditation bell calling you to notice what is really there.

The Mystery of Dreams

Consider dreams- those fanciful stories that arrive, without our bidding, while we sleep. I have been noticing and pondering my dreams for 25 years now, and the longer I study them, the more I am amazed. After all these years they continue to surprise me with their creativity, and with the way they evoke things which had been going on beneath the surface of my consciousness in useful and surprising ways. As my teacher Rev. Dr. Jeremy Taylor was fond of asking “Who writes this stuff?” – because it is surely not our conscious mind, and yet here they are, showing us night after night a prolific creativity outside the light of conscious control.

We humans often think that what we see, hear, feel, and think with our waking mind is all there is. Our dreams hint that even our own psyches hold mysteries we have yet to uncover, parts of ourselves that our conscious, waking minds are not really paying attention to, parts of ourselves that are still emerging, still in formation. There are many theories about what dreams are, and I believe dreams probably have multiple purposes? One role of dreams is as a reservoir of creativity. Dreams help us process our lives without using the rational mind, or in a way that is complementary to the relational mind.

Paying attention to dreams can be a fruitful spiritual practice. Even if you haven’t remembered a dream in years, you might find that you remember a snippet of a dream here or there just because you read this column. If you wake up in the morning with the sense that you have had a dream, be still, don’t fully wake, just allow your conscious mind to go back inside the dream and review it, revisit it. Notice the landscape, notice the colors and how you feel. Have you been to this place before? Have you felt this way before? Jot down a couple of key words once you have revisited your dream.

Just remembering a dream with your conscious mind now and then, letting it accompany you back into waking can offer some insights or new feeling tones or colors to some aspect of your life. Once you are fully awake, think back over the dream and notice if any parts peak your attention, and invite those into your waking day. I once dreamed I had an armful of oranges, and when I woke I was inspired to draw with my orange pencil. I noticed how much that beautiful bright color was missing in our long dark winter, and how just having orange in my life seemed to cheer me up. Another time, when my son was young, I dreamed of a female lion, and happened to have a little figure of one that I put on my desk. It made me think of all the ways I was like a mother lion, fiercely protective of my son. It made me feel powerful at a time I was struggling with the chores and challenges of motherhood.

More details may come back to you in the simple act of writing the dream down. You could keep dreams in your regular journal if you already have a journaling practice or create a special journal just for dreams. Some folks start the day with their cup of coffee at the computer capturing dreams from the night before in a digital journal. Sometimes as we turn our dreams over in our waking minds insights are revealed, but other important insights may be hidden from our conscious minds, and so sharing our dream with an understanding friend can be fruitful.

When I first started exploring my dreams back in seminary, I wrote in my class notebook “I am concerned that my subconscious will not have exciting new messages for me, only things I already know.” But the more I pay attention, I find there really is something new and radically different to be found in dreams, an invitation to use the non-rational part of our minds. Our dreams are a fresh well we can draw from when we are ready to be surprised, when need reassurance that we are more than our thinking minds.