Walking and thinking

When I’m not talking, just walking (which is most of the time), I try to cultivate the most bored state of mind imaginable. A total void of stimulation beyond the immediate environment. My rules: No news, no social media, no podcasts, no music. No “teleporting,” you could say. The phone, the great teleportation device, the great murderer of boredom. And yet, boredom: the great engine of creativity. I now believe with all my heart that it’s only in the crushing silences of boredom—without all that black-mirror dopamine — that you can access your deepest creative wells. And for so many people these days, they’ve never so much as attempted to dip in a ladle, let alone dive down into those uncomfortable waters made accessible through boredom.

Craig Mod has a way of writing that pulls you in, and invites you to think. In fact, just reading that makes me want to go on a walk.

For much of my adult life I haven’t allowed myself to be bored. As a young child the creeping feeling of absolutely nothing to do was a common trait. And it was a wonderful thing in hindsight. I might climb into a tree and watch caterpillars go by, lay on the grass and match the clouds against imaginary creatures—something, anything, to capture my attention.

In that quietness lurks beauty and hidden creativity.

Once, on a Saturday afternoon, I ascended a tree, perhaps thirty-five feet up, and rested against a fork in the trunk. At first the forest around me was quiet, but over time nature decided I wasn’t a danger and began to present herself.

After twenty minutes the birds came alive, small woodland creatures emerged and went about their business, and I was simply in it and among it.

Now too often when I enter the woods its via teleportation—using modern technology to transport my mind while my body enjoys the gift of nature.

It’s not a bad thing, but something in Craig’s intentionally purposeless wandering is appealing.

In allowing the boredom we encourage the mind to flow.

For me, from this boredom—this blankness of mind as I walk past sometimes fields and sometimes giant gambling pachinko parlors—words flow. I can’t stop them. My mind begins writing about what we see and refuses to shut up. That gap created by a lack of artificial stimulation is filled—thanks to the magic plasticity of our brains—with words and more words.

In the times that I have gone on runs without any music or audiobooks or podcasts my brain has lit up with countless thoughts—and inevitably forced pauses as I quickly grab my phone to capture those thoughts.

The last six months without social media has been a fantastic start, a first stab at curbing the unlimited infinity wells that surround. I’ve replaced it with podcasts, Reeder, group chat, and audiobooks. A more than fair trade.

But even in that, though the sources are technically limited, I can find enough to fill every day.

In taking time to do nothing, I’d allow something to emerge—and Craig’s musing are an encouragement to try more of that, to allow the boredom to flow. After all, it’s what got me my start as a kid, and going back that childlike wonder could be a great start to finding more creativity.

Via Lit Hub.