Boredom And The Art Of Becoming Your Best Friend | SFTS Ep 7

Good morning,

Good evening,

Good afternoon,

Wherever you may be,

Whatever you may be doing,

Hello and welcome back to Stories from the Soul.

Today we're talking about something we all try to avoid,

Boredom.

That slow,

Empty space that sits between the noise.

That space that has spawned a multi-billion dollar industry,

Social media.

We are quietly perfecting the art of escaping from it.

That quiet moment we rush to fill with music,

With scrolling,

With conversation,

With texting,

With anything that keeps us away from the silence.

In many ways,

Anything that keeps us away from the deafening noise that is the silence.

Speaking as a parent,

Boredom is a word I hear a lot.

The phrase,

Dad,

I'm bored,

Has become part of the soundtrack of my house.

And every time I hear it,

To be honest,

It makes me smile.

Because I get it.

I used to feel that same resistance,

That same panic in the stillness.

It's uncomfortable.

It feels like nothing is happening.

What if?

What if boredom isn't the enemy?

And what if boredom is simply the beginning?

What if it's not a space to escape,

But a space to enter,

To deepen,

To embrace?

Because behind boredom sits something we've quietly been forgetting how to do.

Something our children are quietly unlearning from us.

The ability to be alone,

To be with self,

To hear the sound of silence,

The sound of your own company.

And as I sometimes say here on the podcast,

That's where the work of life really begins.

And for me,

I believe that's where you start to become your best friend.

So,

On today's episode,

Let's talk about boredom,

But let's look at it from a different perspective,

From a perspective where it's not a problem,

But a teacher,

From a perspective where it's not emptiness,

But an invitation.

So let's explore what actually happens in the mind when we stop running,

And what happens at the heart when we start listening.

So let's begin with the science.

There's something called the default mode network.

Now,

Don't let that term put you off,

It sounds more complicated than it actually is.

What it simply means is that there's a part of your brain that switches on when you're not busy,

When you're not scrolling,

When you're not thinking about what's next.

It's the part of your mind that lights up when you're sitting still,

When you're staring out the window,

Waiting at a red light,

Or just simply lying in bed.

That's when the deeper voice begins to whisper,

The one that asks,

Who am I?

What does this all mean?

And that right there,

Within that question right there is why boredom feels so uncomfortable.

Why it's at times excruciatingly painful.

Because it doesn't just leave us with silence,

It leaves us with ourselves.

And being with ourselves,

Well,

That can be uncomfortable.

Because we've forgotten how to be with ourselves.

For me,

Those moments used to bring up everything I didn't want to see.

My mind,

My brain would just go into overthink mode.

And times when there's kind of turbulence,

As I call it,

That's when you just spiral and you get deeper and deeper and deeper down a rabbit hole.

And you just keep thinking.

That's when the insecure parts,

The restless parts,

The ones that didn't want to sit still,

That's when they all show up.

But here's the thing.

That space,

That exact space that feels so awkward,

On the other side of that is where meaning begins.

It's where your brain,

If allowed,

Starts to join the dots.

Where memories,

Emotions,

Ideas,

All of that begin to connect in the background.

The past,

The future.

That's what the default mode network does.

It's your brain's way of making sense of you.

So,

In a way,

Boredom is the mind's way of saying,

Slow down.

I'm trying to show you something.

So,

There was a study that,

In looking into this,

I really found fascinating.

And it's one which typically is referred to when looking at the default mode network.

It's by Harvard psychologist Dan Gilbert.

And it's simple.

They asked a group of people to sit in a room for 15 minutes.

With no music,

Nobody to talk to,

Nothing to distract them.

Just them and their thoughts.

Except for one thing.

In front of the chair that they sat in on the wall was a button.

And if they pressed that button,

They were told they would receive an electric shock.

Now,

I'm pretty sure you think that nobody would press that button.

And obviously,

Of course they did.

Most people pressed that button.

Most people preferred the jolt,

The distraction,

The stimulation,

The noise,

The feeling that came as a result of pressing that button.

They were sitting in silence with their own thoughts.

That's how deeply uncomfortable stillness can be.

That's how afraid we are.

Our silence of meeting ourselves.

And I get it.

Because I felt that too.

I felt that.

.

.

That pushback from.

.

.

And that fear of.

.

.

What is going to come from all of my thoughts in this moment.

So instead.

.

.

We text.

We check.

We scroll.

We listen.

We watch.

Just to fill the space.

But this is the thing.

And this is the thing that.

.

.

I stumbled across.

I've been piecing together my own little kind of patchwork of a tool.

And the thing is,

Every time we run from boredom.

.

.

We're training our minds to believe that silence is dangerous.

It's scary.

That stillness means something is wrong.

And yet,

Inside that silence.

.

.

And yet,

On the other side of that silence.

.

.

Once you get through that silence,

Something remarkable happens.

Neuroscientists talk about two kinds of awareness.

One that looks outward.

Extraception.

Where we're tuned into everything outside of us.

Screens,

People,

Noise,

Movement,

Partners,

Bangs,

Sound.

And another that turns inward.

Intraception.

Where we begin to notice what's happening within.

Our heartbeat.

Our sensations.

Our emotions.

When you slow down.

When you put the phone down.

You put the tablet down.

The brain shifts gear.

From outer noise.

.

.

To inner knowing.

And that shift is what meditation does.

And it's the same shift that happens during boredom.

It's why the quiet can feel so uncomfortable at first.

Because you're not escaping yourself anymore.

You're transitioning.

You're beginning to sense yourself again.

And here is where the science becomes beautiful.

The part of your brain that lights up in these moments.

The default mode network.

It's not the enemy.

It's the space where your mind connects the pieces of your life.

It's where memories meet emotions.

Where experiences begin to make sense.

Where meaning is formed.

It's that shower moment.

So when we constantly drown out boredom.

We're not just avoiding quiet.

We're interrupting our brain's natural way of healing.

And integrating who we are.

And over time we lose touch with that inner network.

The one designed to help us reflect.

To create.

And to find coherence in our story.

And when that part goes dim.

We feel it.

You can call it anxiety.

Restlessness.

Insecurity.

Emptiness.

But what it really is.

It's the absence of self-connection.

So try this.

The next time you feel that hum of discomfort.

That urge to pick up your phone.

Or in my case the tablet.

Pause.

That hum is not a problem to fix.

It's the sound of your inner world calling you home.

It's your mind saying stay here.

Stay with me.

Stay put.

Trust me.

And when you stop running from boredom.

Something beautiful.

Actually something amazing begins to happen.

You start to meet yourself.

And at first it's strange.

It's awkward.

It's like sitting across from someone you haven't seen in years.

But who used to be your closest and best of friends.

There's a hesitation.

There's that quiet and easy pause.

Before you remember.

You know this person.

And they know you.

And the conversation flows again.

As if we had never been apart.

And that's the work.

And in the next episode I'll talk about.

How to activate that.

And that work.

That's what it means to become.

Your best friend.

It's learning to stay.

To sit in the silence.

And to be with yourself.

Without needing to fix.

Distract.

Perform.

And with time.

The silence begins to soften.

You begin to recognize.

The voice that's been there.

All along.

The one beneath the noise.

The one that isn't demanding.

Or loud.

But the one that speaks softly.

The one that always speaks the truth.

The one that just makes sense.

That's the voice of your best friend.

It's the voice of someone.

Who has always been with you.

And will always be with you.

It's the sound of that person.

Who you can trust.

Wholeheartedly.

Completely.

It's the certainty that.

When you need them.

They will be there.

And that voice.

That's yourself.

It's the part of you.

That's been waiting for your attention.

Waiting for you to stop long enough.

To hear it.

And when you do.

When you start to listen.

You realize.

How kind that voice actually is.

How patient it is.

How forgiving.

You realize that.

All along.

You shouldn't.

And actually you weren't trying to escape boredom.

What you were doing was.

Actually escaping yourself.

And all you actually ever needed.

Was to turn toward that part of you.

And say.

I'm here.

And when you start to like your own company again.

Everything changes.

When you reach.

Internal.

And no longer require external.

You stop reaching.

Outward for validation.

You stop needing every moment to be filled.

You stop needing somebody else's advice.

You stop having to have guidance from anybody.

You stop needing.

And searching for fulfillment.

Outside of you.

And you start to find peace.

Peace in the small things.

The light in the morning.

The sound of silence.

The sound of your own breath.

The stillness between thoughts.

That's the journey back.

To friendship.

With self.

It's the longest relationship.

You'll ever have.

And the most important one.

You'll ever nurture.

And the more time you spend there.

The less lonely life feels.

Because you realize.

You were never alone in the first place.

And neither will you ever.

You're simply waiting.

To come home.

Now let's bring this.

To the physical home.

If you're a parent.

An uncle,

An aunt.

A godparent,

A teacher.

Someone who has little eyes watching you.

This part matters.

Because.

What we model.

We think we're giving our children the world.

Through their screens.

And endless access and endless learning.

And entertainment.

But what if instead.

We're quietly taking something away.

Not their curiosity.

Not their potential.

But their ability.

Establish the most important relationship.

They'll ever have in their lives.

Every long car ride.

Every quiet dinner.

Every pause in the day.

We fill it.

We hand them a device.

We turn on a show.

And without meaning to.

We teach them that silence.

Is something to escape.

That their own company isn't enough.

That stillness is uncomfortable.

But if they saw us.

If they really saw us with self.

Sitting quietly.

Phone away.

Just being.

What would they learn then?

I'm as guilty as the next person about.

This.

I'm getting better with.

My tablet.

And.

That has only been as a result of.

Watching something.

Ironically enough on social media.

Which spoke about.

Simple practice of just calculating.

The amount of time.

We spend on our phones.

Or on our devices.

And I did it.

The back of it.

And I'll probably do an episode on this.

I calculated that I spent.

72 days a year.

On a device.

72 days.

2 months.

That really scared me.

And that jolted me into.

Going cold turkey.

That jolted me into.

Not spending as much time.

On my device.

As I used to.

And not spending as much time on my device.

In front of my children.

And so.

Sitting quietly.

Engaging.

It's something I'm relearning.

Starting to do more of.

And in doing so.

I hope that they learn that.

Presence is strength.

That stillness isn't scary.

That peace isn't found out there.

It's found in here.

And for me.

Perhaps that's.

Their real inheritance.

Their actual legacy.

It's a legacy which.

I've learnt from my mother.

Past recurring patterns.

The legacy that I learnt from her.

And the inheritance I took from her.

Wasn't money.

Wasn't degrees.

Wasn't success.

Wasn't titles.

But twofold.

Authenticity.

So when our children see us.

Putting the phone down.

When they watch us breathe.

Through the boredom.

Instead of reaching for distraction.

They learn by example.

I remember seeing my mother read.

Books.

And they learn that life.

Doesn't have to be filled.

To be full.

That attention is love.

That being here.

Really here.

Being present here in the now.

That's what enough is.

So maybe tonight.

Or tomorrow night.

When the family sits down to eat.

Try it.

No screens.

No noise.

Just presence.

Just presence.

Connection.

Let the awkwardness happen.

Let the silence stretch.

Let it teach you.

Even try it with your partner.

Your spouse.

Leave your phone in the car.

When you go on that date night.

And have the confidence.

To let the silence stretch.

Because that silence.

That stillness.

It isn't empty.

It's full.

Full of connection.

Full of meaning.

Full of us.

Full of trust.

Let's make this real.

Because awareness without practice.

Just floats away.

Here are a few small ways to bring yourself back.

Little anchors.

Simple things that change everything.

And I say this to myself.

When I next go for that walk or that run.

Leave the phone.

Don't listen to a podcast.

Don't listen to music.

Just be yourself.

Let the rhythm of your steps be enough.

Let the air move through you.

Let the quiet.

Next time when you sit down for a meal.

Put the devices away.

And if you're with others.

Invite them to do the same.

Allow that meal to be about connection.

Not consumption.

And if cold turkey feels too much.

Start softly.

Slowly.

Just notice.

Notice how often you reach for a device.

Notice how quickly the hand moves.

Even when nothing is really happening.

On your device.

Check your screen time.

Every week.

Some of them are quite good.

Same time every week.

It'll pop up and tell you what your screen time was like.

In relation to the previous week.

And when you do check it.

Check it without guilt.

But with curiosity.

Sit down and do the calculation.

How many hours have I spent today?

How many hours have I spent this week?

How many days have I lost this month?

How many weeks have I lost this year?

Just ask yourself.

What could I have done.

Instead of trading that noise.

If I gave it back to myself.

That awareness alone.

Is powerful.

Knowing your 72 days.

Is earth shattering.

It's a mirror.

And the more honest you are with it.

The gentler life becomes.

So next time the urge comes.

That small pull to check.

To scroll.

To fill.

Just pause.

What's my best friend inside.

Trying to tell me right now.

And listen.

Really listen.

Because that moment.

That pause between the impulse.

And the action.

That's the bridge.

That's where friendship with self begins.

We've started a screen free Sunday.

Do the course of the year.

I'll check in and tell you how it's going.

So.

Be bored.

Seriously.

Be bored.

Be silent more often.

Be still more often.

Be with yourself more often.

Let the quiet stretch beyond what feels comfortable.

Because boredom is an empty.

It's full.

It's full of possibility.

Of creativity.

Of memory and meaning.

It's the moment your inner world finally gets.

A word in.

It's where trust and confidence and self begins.

It's where reflection lives.

It's where you begin to hear what truly matters.

And that's where you begin to remember.

Who you authentically are.

We need that voice.

Our children need that voice.

The world needs that voice.

So the next time you feel that twitch.

That instinct to reach.

For your device.

To fill the space.

To escape.

Reach for self instead.

Reach for presence.

Reach for now.

Because the more you practice this.

The more you'll realize something simple.

And something true.

You're never really bored.

You're just waiting to come home.

And if you've made it to now.

Thank you for being here.

Thank you for choosing presence.

In a world that profits from distraction.

And as we close.

Let's close with this mantra.

And repeat after me.

I am here.