It’s not just kids.
We, the adults, seem to have lost our capacity for boredom too. In our hyper-connected, hyper-scheduled lives, we’ll do anything to keep ourselves busy. Anything but doing nothing and being alone with our thoughts.
Think about it: waiting rooms, coffee lines, or a red light — our phones come out immediately. A few quiet minutes? Instant panic. We scroll, check email, glance at notifications, play a game, or think about what task we should be doing next. We have convinced ourselves that stillness is somehow dangerous.
Why We Avoid It — and What We Lose
Yes, unoccupied time can stir up uncomfortable feelings — the ones we usually push aside: restlessness, dissatisfaction, self-doubt, even just the mild annoyance of not knowing what to do next. Sitting quietly, there’s nothing to distract from those internal voices or the nagging sense that we’re “not doing enough.”
And yet, paradoxically, it’s often in these very moments — when our minds have space to wander — that creativity and curiosity start to wake up. When the brain isn’t being fed constant input, it begins to process ideas, make connections, and notice things that usually get drowned out by noise. Boredom, in its unassuming way, creates the fertile ground for insight.
I’ve never had a eureka moment while knee-deep in Reddit. I’ve never stumbled across a brilliant idea scrolling Instagram or refreshing Twitter for the tenth time in a row. I know it’s easier to Google “Juicy Fruit commercials 1990s” and watch them with semi-interest than to just sit and let myself marinate. But the point is, the latter — letting myself sit, letting my mind wander — is often where the sparks start.
The irony is that in trying so hard not to feel bored, we also cut ourselves off from the things that make life interesting. The good kind of restless. The creative kind. That quiet itch in the background that nudges us toward experimentation, reflection, or curiosity.
Small Experiments That Matter
oredom isn’t inherently negative. It’s a signal — a quiet one, easy to ignore — that we might need to slow down, step back, or allow our brains to wander. It asks us to sit with discomfort and uncertainty for a moment. And that’s precisely why we avoid it. It’s uncomfortable to feel restless, to have nothing pressing to occupy us, or to notice the internal dialogue we usually drown out.
But there’s a payoff to tolerating that discomfort. Boredom can spark curiosity. It can open doors to creativity. It can help us notice ideas, perspectives, or solutions we wouldn’t have discovered in a constant whirl of activity. It allows space for imagination, reflection, and even play — the kind of mental space that often leads to growth, innovation, or simply noticing what actually matters.
This is something I see with clients all the time. People come in frustrated, exhausted, and overstimulated, desperate for distraction or relief. And when we experiment with creating small pockets of intentional stillness, the shift is remarkable. The mind quiets, ideas emerge, and there’s a renewed sense of perspective. Not immediately, not dramatically, but subtly — the creative and curious parts of the brain begin to reassert themselves.
Small experiments help: fifteen minutes without a phone, a walk with no podcast, sitting in a quiet room with nothing but your thoughts. It won’t feel magical right away. You might fidget, scroll, or feel restless. That’s okay. That’s exactly the point. It’s the act of noticing, tolerating, and allowing that discomfort that opens the door to curiosity and insight.
So here’s the takeaway: boredom isn’t your enemy. It’s a tool. A doorway. A nudge to slow down, notice, and allow your mind to roam. It’s where some of the best ideas, observations, and creative breakthroughs quietly begin.
And if you needed permission to sit with nothing today: you have it. You don’t have to fill every second. You don’t have to Google, scroll, or search. You can just be. And in that quiet, your curiosity — and maybe even a little spark of creativity — might just wake up.
