Relearning to Be Bored: A Lost Skill for Creative Minds

Photo by Andri Wyss on Unsplash

There was a time when boredom arrived naturally.

It appeared in long afternoons, in waiting rooms, on quiet walks, in moments where nothing in particular was asking for our attention. It wasn’t something to fix or escape — it was simply a pause. An empty space. A breath.

Today, boredom rarely gets the chance to exist.

The moment it approaches, we reach for our phones. We scroll, refresh, consume. We fill the silence before it has time to speak. And without realising it, we’ve turned boredom into something uncomfortable, even threatening — a feeling to avoid at all costs.

For creative minds, this loss is especially profound.

Because boredom was never the enemy of creativity. It was one of its quietest allies.

When boredom became something to fear

Somewhere along the way, boredom was reframed as unproductive time. As wasted minutes. As a sign that we weren’t doing enough. But boredom isn’t emptiness — it’s space.

It’s the space where the mind wanders without direction. Where thoughts loosen their grip. Where ideas emerge not because they were demanded, but because they were allowed.

When every spare moment is filled with input (notifications, content, opinions, images) the mind never gets the chance to drift. And without drifting, creativity begins to dry up.

Not because we’ve lost our imagination, but because we’ve stopped giving it room to breathe.

Boredom as a doorway, not a dead end

For creative people, boredom is often the threshold before something meaningful happens.

It’s the moment just before an idea forms. The quiet before a memory resurfaces. The pause where curiosity quietly stretches its legs.

This is why boredom can feel uncomfortable at first. It asks us to stay. To sit with ourselves without distraction. To resist the urge to reach outward for stimulation.

But if we stay — just a little longer — something shifts.

The mind begins to play. To connect fragments. To imagine without pressure.

Many of our most creative impulses are born here, in moments that look unremarkable from the outside.

How constant stimulation interrupts the creative cycle

Creativity isn’t a constant output. It’s a rhythm.

There’s gathering. There’s resting. There’s processing. And only then, expression.

Digital life collapses these phases into one continuous stream of consumption. We gather endlessly, but rarely pause long enough to digest. We replace boredom with noise, and rest with distraction.

Over time, this creates a subtle fatigue — not just physical, but imaginative.

Ideas feel harder to reach. Inspiration feels distant.

We assume we need more input, when what we actually need is less.

Less noise. Less urgency. More empty space.

Relearning boredom, gently

Relearning to be bored doesn’t mean forcing stillness or rejecting technology entirely.

It’s about creating small, intentional gaps where nothing is expected of you.

Moments where your mind can wander without purpose.

This might look like:

• Leaving your phone behind during a short walk

• Sitting with a cup of tea without reading or scrolling

• Letting yourself stare out of a window

• Doing something repetitive and analogue with your hands

At first, the impulse to “fill the gap” will be strong. That’s normal.

We’ve trained ourselves out of boredom for years.

But boredom, like a muscle, returns with practice.

And when it does, it often brings something unexpected with it: clarity, calm, ideas that feel quietly yours.

Making peace with unproductive moments

In a culture that measures value through output, boredom can feel rebellious.

But creativity has never thrived under constant pressure. It needs softness. Slowness. Space that isn’t immediately justified.

Allowing yourself to be bored is not a failure of discipline — it’s an act of trust. Trust that creativity doesn’t need to be chased. Sometimes, it just needs silence.

In a world that fills every silence for us, choosing not to reach for distraction is a quiet act of care.