This post will be very short compared to some recent writings of mine. I just had a thought about my past. Around the latter part of elementary school, I remember telling my dad that I was bored… it was probably summer. It’s an odd thing to remember.
The only other aspect I remember is that in telling my dad this I was seeking some kind advice. As silly as it seems, I was asking my dad about a fundamental issue of life. The issue of boredom is directly related to the issue of meaning. I didn’t have the philosophical context to understand it at the time, but basically I was inquiring about what I was to do with my life. I was a kid who had all the basic necessities of life taken care of and I lived in a town that had plenty of opportunities. And yet I felt bored. I mean, could just occupying myself with activities be all there is to life? That’s a pretty deep question. Most people just spend their lives distracting themselves until they die, but it seems that even at that young of an age I wanted more out of my life.
I usually think that I don’t get bored anymore. But maybe like most people I’ve just become better at distracting myself. Ya know, maybe being bored isn’t such a bad thing. Boredom reminds us of a deeper longing. Even distractions can become boring after awhile because they don’t satisfy that basic desire for something more, something meaningful.