When my high school students tell me about feeling bored in certain classes, I respond that boring people are easily bored. By this, I mean that nonboring people always find a way to engage – even in unstimulating situations.
There are two types of boredom I’ve seen: a) boredom due to not seeing the possibilities, and b) intolerance of repetitive pathways that have been trodden countless times before.
In the first case, possibilities are there, but one lacks the creative awareness to see them. In the second case, the creative possibilities of something have been exhausted, but one perseverates on such saturated experiences in hopes of getting more – trying to get blood from a stone.
The world has nooks of unfettered creativity, which are collectively known as “art.” The wealthy know the value of art, to some degree, and will pay huge sums to possess someone’s dynamic bursts. However, the vast majority are looking for fomulaic pleasure stimuli, guaranteed to tickle – a paint-by-numbers approach to movies, books, visual art, dance, music, and spirituality. In such template “art,” anything that touches well-mapped pleasure centers is exploited and voraciously consumed. Building novel relationships to life is not something most know how to do, or even miss not doing. After having a pleasant experience, one simply wants to repeat it over and over.
Is washing dishes or brushing teeth boring? Only when one does these without conscious connection and is, instead, just lost in thought.
I am never bored. Direct awareness is never boring. In truth, nothing authentic is boring. Life is ever-evolving and unfolding at all scales, but we fixate on things in a way that precludes clear vision and ability to appreciate nuance. When we move our bodies or minds and connect to the truth of others, life is magical in the seemingly most common tasks. The moment itself is creation.
However, I view people’s efforts to transcribe the inherent wisdom of life as inherently boring. “Why are we here?” is an inspiring question, but someone’s explanations and quotes and memes about why we are here is – in fact – mostly trite limmerics or minds-on cleverness, lacking the depth needed. Repetitive (and limited) interpretations of age-old questions about existence trample the underlying inspiration that catalyzed wondernment in the first place.
How many study Descartes’ statement: “I think, therefore I am”? Not only is the phrase myopic, the words themselves are tired of carrying the weight of pedantism.
Philosophy is fertile for mind-oriented people who prefer metalife to actual life. They are stuck in grooves, and their words are heavily analytical, biopic, unoriginal, and filled with self-preoccupation. Philosophers debate facts and scenarios that are meaningless when these do not bring any new insights or awareness to what the world now needs.
The population often engages in activities that are masturbation of the various bodies – the emotional and mental bodies can be masturbated just like the physical. People arguing, making points, aligning vocabulary, and fashioning counterpoints. Unfortunately, the mental circuit is its own loop and is disconnected from direct awareness. Hence, one can’t transform using the mind.
Almost everything that has been said was said before – and countless times. Almost all actions are familiar to the point of being unconscious. Daily life, when viewed from this perspective, is a track on single-repeat. This is the distorted and mass-produced life, where I no longer set foot.
Boring people look for extreme experiences, lights, colors, and intensity, to hit their pleasure centers and un-numb themselves. So, they miss the possibilities that are unfamiliar and subtle – mostly veiled – to the casual observer.
If I were to speak to you, what would I hear? How you have loved and lost? How hard everything is? How unfair life can be? How brilliant you are? How unfortunate or happy you are? The human-race echo chambers ring with the collective conversations that are calcified and empty. In fact, people sacrifice true originality in the name of self-aggrandizing aches and pains, and identify more with their diseases and lacks than with the possibility of freedom. You don’t need to be your aches and pains, but people glom on to illness as an identity.
I spend very little time with humanity digesting and regurgitating the individual so-called ailments and confusion, unless I am working with teens. They need a great deal of support and lack sane role models to carry on more than the standard and usual conversations about work ethic and behaviors. No one asks how much past history they really need to know to create something new. So, they repeat all history and do not sufficiently push beyond its envelope.
I write because words are my paints and brushes. I write because it makes no difference to me if anybody reads me. I write. I also sing, speak to audiences, rap, and gesticulate. My being is my medium, and I work via this medium, full bodied.
Working primarily on the other planes of existence, while also multitasking with people here, leads me to choose actions that release me from this realm while, paradoxically, still allowing me to be here. No one needs to entertain me or get my laughs – although I laugh with people a lot. No one needs to understand me. I don’t listen too long to people making excuses or trying to convince me what they meant – I knew them at “hello.”
What catches my attention are the sparks of life who destroy their fabricated self-image as they create – like living sand mandalas. People tend to have a negative attitude to life (“I want to curl up and die”) and also too positive “Let’s go shopping and party!” – neither state is conducive to transformation. Both extremes are well-mapped and understood, and I cannot imagine being part if conversation with people in these states about specific situations. Few are capable of truly reflecting on their attitudes with greater depth.
I have no interest in people looking to further elaborate to me about the why’s and how’s of their blatant constriction, especially when they are constantly defending what they think they have attained. Their supposed freedom and happiness are partial and…to me…boring.