DAY 14: What I do when I'm bored
Thursday, February 9, 2023
WFIW of the Day: This right here is leading to it.
Sometimes, I find myself wandering aimlessly around the house.
I remember doing this when I was a corporate lawyer and feeling like it was a goddamn waste of time. Like, what the hell was wrong with me that I couldn’t even KNOW WHAT I WANT and just fucking do it?
I saw it as a sign of failure… another afternoon spent wandering, getting nothing done, feeling more and more confused and frustrated.
It feels different to me now.
When I have time between eating and meetings and chores and places I need to be… sometimes I feel an urge to putter gently from room to room.
I walk where my legs take me, I touch things my fingers want to reach out for, I notice the sunlight streaming in, the colors, the shapes and textures of the floors and furniture.
And, inevitably, I end up drawn to something. It may be a watercolor painting I see on the wall, or a mental image of a friend I haven’t talked to in awhile.
So, I allow myself to be pulled. Sometimes, I end up creating a playful painting. Sometimes, I start on a task that feels fun… and a few minutes later, I end up abandoning it for something else. Sometimes, I end up with piles of half-gathered art supplies, books propped open, clothes to be sorted through… scattered behind me throughout the house.
>>>>>And it’s all good because the end result isn’t the point… the wandering is.
To me, the hardest question to answer has always been: “What do you want?”
People assume that desire is easy to access, like the response to: “Are you cold?” or “Do you feel hungry?”
But my wantings never feel like a primal, somatic knowing.
Until I allow myself to wander. The wandering is a form of waiting patiently.
So that the soft nudges of desire know that it’s safe to come out.
It’s not time wasted. It’s a time of communion with myself and the universe.
It’s prayer.
With Curiosity,
Shinah
P.S. - If you read my last post, “Control & Condescension”… you may be under the impression that I’ve totally figured my shit out and no longer have the problem of being a condescending asshole. NOPE. In fact, I got called a “smartass” just last night and while it was completely justified, I’m still feeling butthurt about it and processing that pain. Just being honest here… the realization is only half the battle, but it’s a battle worth fighting.