I just returned from a three-day trip to Bacalar, Mexico. Bacalar is a short flight from Mexico City, in the southern part of the country, and my husband and I flew there to celebrate our anniversary. It is a tiny town and sits on a beautiful, multi-hued lagoon. The water sparkles in the sunlight and the weather is warm and relaxing.
Just a few short hours after our arrival, we could feel our bodies sinking into the rhythm of tropical life. We swayed in the hammocks that overlooked the water, sipped a piña colada, and gave ourselves permission to enter deep rest. I could feel tension seeping out of me and tranquility soaking in.
One of our intentions during the trip was to unplug from technology. Given how accustomed we’ve grown to constant digital input, unplugging always feels like such a revolutionary act. And, initially, upon disconnecting, we felt a sense of relief and freedom.
But as hour after hour passed, those feelings of relief and freedom started to be accompanied by an unfamiliar sensation—a tiny speck of boredom. At first, this tiny speck of boredom was almost unrecognizable. Because in our “always on” digital culture, we literally never give ourselves an opportunity to grow bored with anything. We move from one task, one input, one communication to the next. All day long. Boredom doesn’t exist in a world of constant diversion that sits conveniently in our hands.
However, I must admit I felt excited to be experiencing this growing speck of boredom. Research from neuroscientists reveals that boredom is actually quite beneficial. It’s good for us mentally, it’s good for us physically, and it’s good for us creatively.
And while I had not planned to do any writing on this escape from the city, on the third day I began to spontaneously jot down some ideas that were simply flowing out of me. In my logical brain, I wasn’t consciously affiliating these thoughts with my current book. They were more spur-of-the-moment ideas that had heat and energy and flow to them, and I knew they represented pure creative impulse. There was no effort to it. Only ease.
Later, on the plane ride home, I looked at these snippets of writing again and instinctively knew they were meant to be part of my book. I didn’t try to figure out where they were going to go or how I was going to work them in. I just relished in the fact that I had allowed these ideas to emerge so freely and without inhibition. I recognized that they stemmed from an unblocked creative stream, which I knew was a direct byproduct of experiencing feelings of boredom.
It’s quite hard to cultivate boredom in our day-to-day lives. It is much easier to do so on a tropical vacation that encourages lounging and napping (and has hammocks). However, it is certainly not impossible to create more space and mental downtime in the daily rhythm of our weeks. Periodic fasts from technology certainly help, as does time unstructured time in nature. In an overstimulated culture, any way we can limit distraction will nurture our creative work.
So, while a tropical vacation might not be in your near future, the next time you’re feeling stuck or are having difficulty tapping into your creativity, try planning for a day or a weekend whose only goal is cultivating boredom. Give yourself the freedom and time to meander—both physically and mentally, releasing internal chatter and just existing (without phone in hand). Resist filling the void with distractions. And observe what flashes of insight or inspiration bubble up.
Even if nothing new emerges in the moment, I can guarantee you’ll come away feeling refreshed. And you’ll have given your future creative output the valuable gift of space.