She did a great job of provoking thought, especially within me!
When I read her submission a few weeks ago, I knew the content would be perfect for Mocha Muse’s newspaper, but, I didn’t expect to be haunted by its title. Nevertheless, I’ve found myself chewing on the fact ever since that creative people are “easily bored.”
I’m not sure what gnawed on me first, the creative part or the bored part. But I haven’t been able to reconcile the connection within myself, so, I’m going to write out my quandary and see where it goes.
My first prick of discomfort was: I consider myself to be a person who exercises her creativity, however, I’m also rarely bored. So then I sat with that contradiction and wondered in good old Aristotelian logic:
If creative people are easily bored
And if I’m rarely bored
Then can I really be a very creative person?
And this logic, of course, scraped at the scab of my ego that defines me as being creative. It was like starting to shed the snake-layers of my protective personality and that felt uncomfortable. I shivered with a little anxiety; felt perhaps a little too exposed as a possible fraud.
Well, that was stage-one panic and once it passed, like any good storm, the thought-winds calmed and I was able to go forward without judgment or fear. Rather like a member of the audience watching a theatre production . . . I could lean back in the upholstery of my mind and relax. Not think. Just accept the delivery of free-spirited thoughts as they arrived at my doorstep.
And this is my favorite stratum of life to inhabit. Actively focused upon an idea, while the orbiters of observation roam around, encircle the topic and surveil it from every direction; all the while, my mind remains concentrated. I liken the process to a barn owl triangulating its evening meal.
It’s that inner faith we can rest in, knowing that all nourishment and wisdom will come if we just simply relax and stop fretting.
And, sure enough, after a week or so, I had new colors of vision. It was no longer about a threat to my self-identity; it was really more a situation of semantics.
I mean, what the heck is boredom, anyway?
By dictionary definition it may mean blasé and unconcerned; even the rather quaint “lackadaisical,” but, in my personal lexicon, I think it may just be a time of reflection. A time of ascending the clouds of daily chaos, and crawling into the lounge chair that glides along the stream of glass air up above where electronic signals can’t reach and distractions are never available. Romantically speaking, it’s that place somewhere over the rainbow.
That special timezone where technology is inaccessible; where conversations are mute; where traffic jams are unclogged; where I’m able to touch the quietest observant state possible. It’s when I’m sitting at the corner of contentment and attention that I receive subtle impulses that urge me to create – to express something visually, orally or in writing.
So, I don’t know. Is being bored – or being reflective – a lost art?
“Boredom” has some edges of darkness, so do many people run away from it into the bright wattage of gadgetry and social gatherings? And are those who stay behind the ones who receive the messages of creativity?
Is this the connection between being creative and being easily bored: Just being open to receive the instructions of how to make something different?
To be un-rushed and available to search for more beautiful or provocative or poignant ways of expressing ourselves in this physical world?
Lots of questions remain, but at the moment I’m comfortable with understanding boredom as reflection – and for me – that feels healthy and creative.
Or, perhaps, “contemplation” is the word I’m reaching for . . . yes, that feels even more balanced. The fine art of contemplation. I believe in keeping it alive, and trust that it will, in return, enliven me.