Canyoning in the morning, lunch by a waterfall, an afternoon hike, then dinner on a mountaintop sounds like a classic itinerary on today’s experience-rich trips. But what if we slowed down? Could we open ourselves up to experiencing more by doing less? Writer Sydney Baker investigates.
“I’m bored” was a typical after-school proclamation during my youth. After finishing my homework and chores, I would declare this sentiment with utmost seriousness to my dad in his office.
Luckily, life blessed me with the world’s most patient father. Instead of lamenting how he wished he had surplus mental capacity, he’d wrap up work, then save me from my self-diagnosed syndrome. These excursions included trendy destinations such as the supermarket, the dump (a childhood favorite), and school pick-up for my brother.
As adults we’re told to be bored is bad. Only boring people are bored, or so the saying goes. But according to psychologist Dr. Heather Lench, who specializes in boredom, being in a relaxed state of ennui—something I had by the bucketload in as a child—can actually motive us to try new things or foster creativity.
As a kid, I had the mental space for those ‘perks’, now prime commodities for me and most adults. Some people will (and do) pay large sums of money for wellness retreats, digital detoxes, and trips where they physically have to be in a new environment so that they can relax into boredom. But these states—boredom and relaxation—are, according to Lench, two things we often conflate.
For me, boredom means leaning into moments sans to-do lists or responsibilities where my mind can sit in quiet, even if I’m ‘doing’ things. It usually involves very little time actually being ‘bored’ in the traditional sense, as the stillness allows for (often unexpected) bursts of inspiration as a result of mindfulness.
For many adults, being bored and feeling relaxed are often luxuries, as we juggle work, personal lives, and, to be frank, confront the bleak state of the world. And for anyone like me whose travels are often work-related, even when I’m supposed to be on vacation, it’s hard to turn off the ‘work side’ of my brain. But on a recent trip to Parc National des Grands-Jardins in Quebec, I decided to finally give it a go. It was the first trip in a while just for me; not for work, nor as ‘travel planner’ for friends or family. Just me, the Canadian wilderness and a new corner of La Belle Province.
Somewhere in the back of my brain, a voice whispered the benefits of not overscheduling. Mother Nature does not care about your plans.
It was the weather which forced me to adjust initially. As I came off the mountain, clouds I’d seen from the top descended on the trailhead, and I bit into my first pretzel at the exact moment rain began to dot my windshield. It didn’t take long before a thunderstorm began to assault the parking lot (and presumably the summit where I’d just been), putting at least a temporary halt on my plans to tackle another trek.
For hours, I waited, I read, I snacked—but for a lot of the time, I was uncomfortable. Not to mention, a bit irritated. I’d gotten up early, after a long drive post-work the prior day to complete both these ‘must-hike’ trails before moving on to another part of the park where I’d camp.
I watched car after car pull into the lot, wait, then leave when the storm failed to pass in quick fashion. As I bided my time, the impatience slowly dissipated. Eventually, I zoned out and allowed my thoughts to come and go. I realized this was something I’d done effortlessly as a kid, but these days, can require a yoga class or guided meditation to achieve.
I did eventually hike the second trail. I thought of those cars that had left without admiring the amazing vistas of rolling green mountains that seemed to go on forever, sprinkled with lakes, perfectly painting the park’s name, Grands Jardins (Grand or Big Gardens). Those other visitors, presumably on a schedule to ‘do-and-see-it-all,’ only had a small window for either of the trails and missed out. Somewhere in the back of my brain, a voice reminded me of the benefits of not overscheduling. Mother Nature does not care about your plans.
Later, at the campsite, my book remained untouched, my face turned upwards staring at perfect popcorn clouds. I occasionally found a recognizable shape, but mostly, I let them pass. This moment again harkened back to my childhood, when I’d watch the sky for hours. Those happy, fleeting years that only end up as a fraction of a lifespan gave me so much easy joy—and occasionally, essential boredom, a critical factor in my artistic pursuits.
Modern life praises busyness and productivity to unhealthy levels, to the point where if anyone other than a child says “I’m bored”, it’s pretty much considered indulgent. I’ve even read that we’ve nearly eliminated boredom, with the prevalence of technology. But is that really what we’ve done? Scrolling endlessly eventually becomes numbing rather than relaxing or entertaining.
As part of my experiment, I even started writing this story by hand, in a journal that I’ve struggled to fill for the better half of a year. yAccording to my former high-school English teacher, handwriting is the best way to complete a first draft because your brain processes information differently when forming thoughts on paper versus typing on a screen. Before I ever had a laptop or smartphone, that’s how I used to write essays, and come to think of it, I used to pump out thousands of words without much stress. That has mostly disappeared in the digital era.
I have yet to find conclusive peer-reviewed evidence of her claims. But as an anecdotal test subject, I slowly remembered why I used to enjoy drafting on paper so much. Sans an intimidatingly empty Word doc with all the distractions of the internet just a few clicks away, reflection came much more easily, as did the words to describe my thoughts.
Maybe it’s not boredom. As I alluded to earlier, boredom to me means being able to sit with my thoughts and either process or let them float by. Dr. Lench puts it, “Relaxing can be very fulfilling and not boring at all, even if nothing exciting is happening at the time.” In the context of drafting this piece, ‘boredom’ and ‘relaxation’ unlocked creativity without distractions.
Now, I wasn’t mindless the entire long weekend in Quebec—that would have made for quite an uninteresting trip. But rather, I had moments where I allowed myself to be more present. Such as savoring a morning coffee and actually tasting the flavor instead of gulping it down before running off to an activity. And aren’t these snapshots of enjoyment why we’re meant to be taking vacations in the first place?
If it’s a struggle, hiking or walking can help get into a state of inspirational flow; which explains why I often seek out both on vacation.
On the drive home and for a long time afterwards, new ideas for stories and projects abounded in a way that, for a while, had felt forced. The time away, and being offline, had given my brain space and done wonders for my creativity. Sure, I’d promised I wouldn’t actively be coming up with work ideas on the road, but this feeling was more a by-product of it all. And isn’t one of the points of vacation to return feeling inspired for ‘real life’, in whatever way that happens?
I admit that at times, a bit of guilt seeped in while on the trip. Did I really have the audacity to want to actively not think with everything going on in the world? In my country? The freedom to be bored, or relaxed, or whatever combination of the two was something I absolutely took for granted as a kid. I don’t know when I lost that ability or stopped giving myself permission to do so, but the weekend reminded me of the importance of taking a beat.
If it’s a struggle, hiking or walking can help get into a state of inspirational flow; which explains why I often seek out both on vacation. I often find that the brain has more room to chill if the body is kept busy. Maybe this is why people often cite walks, showers, and other movements as when they have their best revelations.
I’ve realized comfort breeds boredom; and that’s why ‘boredom’ of this type, like travel, is a privilege—to actively unplug from what’s going on around me. If you can do one, maybe consider the other? If you’re having a drink or eating a meal, do so without screen distractions. Focus on the amazing food you’ve traveled hours to sample (I promise it’ll taste better), on the place you’re in, the people you’re with.
These moments might not be the ones that make the Instagram feed or that stick with you over the years. But they’re vital to that refreshed feeling we seek when we leave on holiday in the first place. I might remember the mountain view summits or the wind in my hair along the St Lawrence years from now. However, without those sneaky moments of calm, the trip would’ve just been snapshots of places and activities, not a holistic relaxation experience that inadvertently allowed me to return home not only refreshed, but full of new ideas.
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Sydney Baker is a freelance writer from Seattle who previously worked in immigration and international education at higher education institutions. She has lived in Sydney, Montreal, Luxembourg, small-town Provence, and Paris, traveled solo across four continents, and speaks French and a little Spanish. When she isn’t sipping coffee, you can find her hiking in the mountains or near the water. She writes about travel, lifestyle and language all over the internet.
