The Insidious Nature of Boredom

The sentence ‘I am bored’ is probably one of the most frequently used sentences in the English language.  Children learn it early in life and recite it endlessly during long summer vacations or family car rides or moments of exasperation with various tasks or chores.

In its youthful form, boredom is generally a temporary state, brought on by either the lack of obvious play scenarios or by forced participation in an activity that holds no interest.  A child may be bored one second and merrily engaged the next in some new activity.  The mercurial nature of the child generally vanquishes boredom pretty easily.  Childlike curiosity and energy win the day, because there is almost always something new to discover.  But from adolescence on, boredom can be a more complex phenomenon that can easily skirt the edges of lassitude and ultimately plunge one into the abyss of depression.

Of course adult boredom can be as banal as childlike boredom – the boredom of a long meeting, the boredom of a vapid conversation, the boredom of a book that has lost its appeal or a formulaic movie.

But in many cases, to be bored as an adult is no longer the state of having nothing to do or perceiving a single, specific activity as boring, but rather finding no compelling reason to do anything! This sinister species of boredom – a writer’s block of the soul - seems almost nonsensical at first glance.  Why would human beings be so easily bored in a world that has endless possibilities of activity, both intellectual and physical?  A boredom of this nature would seem almost to indicate a very flawed character, a dearth of imagination or curiosity.  Yet, it is endemic in modern civilization and affects legions of otherwise industrious and energetic souls who find themselves inexplicably stricken by a melancholy boredom from time to time.

Why does the infection of a bored lethargy lurk so close to the human psyche, and how does one find an antidote?  Why do some people seem endlessly energetic and buoyant while others grapple constantly with a debilitating ennui?

In my life I seem to vacillate between extremes.  In one moment I am ecstatically imbued with almost superhuman energy and passion, engaged in multiple activities and joyfully contemplating each new endeavor.  Each activity seems to hold endless fascination for me and I almost vibrate with a mad desire to experience everything and master as much as humanly possible.  I am bewitched by the endless possibilities of engagement and reluctant to leave my tasks even to eat or sleep.

But those same passions can be cast aside in paralyzing indifference when I find myself in the clutches of a bored state of mind. The powerful elixir of playing guitar or writing songs that provides me such exquisite pleasure on one evening can seem dull and meaningless to me the next.  I can catalog through the bountiful list of hobbies and interests that are normally a bottomless treasure trove and find not a single item that beckons to me.  It all seems so purposeless.

Sometimes in this state of listlessness I can trick myself out of the ensuing despondency by starting an activity with little or no hope for pleasure.  If I am fortunate, I find myself slowly drawn into its inveterate magic.  Often this will break the spell of boredom and return me to my happy, energized self.

But other times the spell is not to be broken, and I lurch from activity to activity with heavy heart and find nothing to awaken the child within.  In these moments I begin to despair that I have lost the thread of jubilant exertion.  Perhaps I am peering into the chasm of depression.

When I was in college I took a class on the writings of Jean Paul Sartre.  His book, La Nausee, made a strong impression on me.  The protagonist, if he can be regarded as such, is overwhelmed by a ‘nausea’, an awareness of the absurdity and meaninglessness of existence – a glimpse into ‘nothingness’.  But somehow he is able to comprehend and accept pure existence and find the courage to overcome his nausea and live ‘authentically’.  It was somewhat unclear to me whether living ‘authentically’ is supposed to give our lives meaning in spite of the absurdity of existence.

When I am experiencing a time of ‘boredom’, I think about existentialism because the strongest quality of my boredom is a sense of futility, of meaninglessness.  I perceive every possible activity as repetitious and pointless.  As a person who has not embraced atheism but remains rather ever-optimistic that there is indeed a higher order or divine state of being, I want to reject and overcome this flirtation with nihilism.  But my best efforts to do so are not always immediately successful.  Fortunately, the passage of time eventually clears the miasma of my ennui and I can once again throw myself into an activity, albeit without ever solving the puzzle of why such attacks occur.

Here’s hoping that my more ebullient nature and native curiosity are able to continue to triumph over the insidious threat of boredom.  I will certainly do everything I can to ensure that they do!