I’ve been getting some feedback from my recent blog posts. The idea of boredom has really been resonating with people. There seems to be growing interest in the benefits of unstructured time.
It’s important to note that there is a meaningful distinction between being bored because we can't (or don’t want to) engage with a task and allowing ourselves to experience a period without anything demanding our attention. My interest, and apparently the interest of those who have reached out to me about it, lies with the latter.
Recently, I’ve been setting aside a little bit of time each day—anywhere from 10 to 30 minutes, depending on my schedule—to cultivate boredom. During this time, I don’t meditate; I don’t plan; I try not to look at my phone; and, if possible, I don’t speak. Some days, I’m successful. Other days, I find myself getting restless and reaching for my phone.
Boredom as a practice can teach us something about ourselves. It reveals our habitual responses and attitudes toward stillness and non-productivity. We notice when we want to reach for stimulation or escape discomfort, and we can allow these feelings to unfold without judgment or needing to fix anything.
We've become so good at responding to the first hint of boredom that we miss the transition from restlessness to curiosity. The urge to escape supersedes the simple experience of being present. Learning to be okay with what is is its own kind of practice.
But maybe the point isn't to learn to enjoy boredom. Maybe the point is to stop treating every quiet moment as something that needs to be fixed.
Maybe boredom isn't the right word after all. Maybe the right word is stillness. It may be useful to make a distinction between boredom as an uncomfortable feeling and stillness as a practice of attention. These experiences can overlap, but they're not interchangeable.
Boredom says: This isn't engaging enough; I want something else.
Restlessness says: I want to move, act, or change something.
Stillness says: I can notice that impulse without immediately obeying it.
Stillness is a skill. And that skill can be cultivated.
Which brings me back to savasana . . .
The practice of savasana isn't necessarily about eliminating thoughts, achieving perfect relaxation, or becoming comfortable with every moment. It's about noticing what arises when we're still and no longer busy directing our attention elsewhere.
You might notice impatience. You might notice the urge to plan dinner, replay a conversation, or check the time. You might feel peaceful for a few minutes and restless the next.
And guess what?
None of those experiences means you're doing it wrong.
Savasana gives us an opportunity to practice skillful stillness. And like any practice, it can be explored, adapted, and understood more deeply.
Savasana is an invitation to slow down, get curious, and practice being present—because presence doesn't have to be productive.
If you'd like to get more skillful at being unproductive, join me for "Savasana Study." We'll spend time exploring the pose, experimenting with different variations and supports, and considering what it means to rest without needing to accomplish anything.
I hope to see you there!