I’m pretty sure no one out there who knows me will be surprised that I’m an extrovert – with a capital “E.” Extroversion and introversion get a lot of pop psychology attention due to all of the readily available online quizzes, mentions in profiles, and memes setting up (in my opinion) unhelpful dichotomies. One type is not preferable to another, and wouldn’t the world be an even more strange and stressful place if we all tried to be extroverts (or vice versa)?
And to digress briefly, if you’re interested in a Myers-Briggs assessment, I believe it’s worth it to invest in something more than a quick online quiz.
All that said, I love (and frankly can’t live without) opportunities to withdraw into my interior world. Connecting outward is lovely and stimulating. Reflecting inward gives my psyche a chance to catch its breath. So when I’ve had a week of happily bouncing between clients, family, happy hour with friends, folks at church, the people installing some new light fixtures, and the random people I strike up conversations with, plunging myself into an opposite extreme is just what the brain ordered.
If we take some purposeful extended time to do nothing more complex than staring at a tree or doodle on a blank page, we open something up. We declutter a little brain space. We might call this mindfulness, but I think it’s less intense. We might call it being bored, but I think it’s less negative. Those of us GenX and older – do you ever stop to remember what it was like before we had all of these screens? Yeah, we used to get bored. I used to read cereal boxes at breakfast. I used to watch the power poles out the window speed by on long car trips. I know, I know…next I’ll be talking about walking 10 miles in the snow uphill…the point is, there are plenty of benefits to a bit of boredom now and then. Unfortunately, it’s gotten a bad rap.
I might suggest that stepping back for 30 minutes to an hour once a week by yourself to do absolutely nothing is like a personal productivity retreat, a little spa time for your synapses. And I do mean nothing. I think we sometimes kid ourselves that we’re retreating when we go for a walk (gotta count those steps!) or get a massage (ever had a talkative masseuse?). Going about such a retreat purposefully gives everything that has occupied and overwhelmed our brains a chance to just be. When the mental fuzz from all the busyness clears, I find that decision-making, creativity, and taking action flows easier.
It might feel really uncomfortable at first. You might have tons of thoughts and judgments creep in – “OMG, I’m just wasting time!”. But honestly, aren’t you already killing plenty of minutes scrolling Instagram, or spinning your wheels at work because your mind is so taxed?
Of course, I can’t know how introverts would plan or go about personal productivity retreats – perhaps that’s like asking the fish how they set up the water? Introverted friends, please chime in. Maybe the key to the whole business is intentionality – do you think of your alone, do-nothing time as an opportunity? Do you insist on it for yourself as a critical component of your overall life order?
Give a little empty, unstructured, productive time a try (set that timer if it helps) – and let us know how it goes.
One of my favorite do-nothing places.
I think about this too. I used to read the cereal box. I’ve definitely gotten used to filling my free moments with a screen, and I think I miss something by doing this. There truly is value in the “boring” moment. That is where creativity flourishes.
I actually think we are wired for these times and we are wise to reclaim them, even if we have to schedule them in!
It’s getting harder and harder to put the screens away, but I’m trying to set that intentional time every Saturday morning. Happy to know there’s another label-reader out there!
Yup, cereal box aficionado here too! In recent years, I’ve become aware of how uncomfortable I think I’ll feel “just” eating or “just” sitting, and I’ve eased myself into with timers. Having a set amount of time to do nothing has come to feel wonderful. I think it was the open-endedness of it that scared me off before. I’ll be bored FOREVER if I don’t have something to occupy my mind right now. That hasn’t happened :-).
Yes, I think we have to give ourselves a bit of a boundary with it. Thanks for commenting – I’m amazed at the number of cereal box readers out there. 😉
The beach would be my retreat place. I could sit on the sand and just watch the ocean waves. It completely restores me.
Sometimes I’m beach. Sometimes I’m mountains. Sometimes I’m front porch. As long as I can be uninterrupted for a bit it usually works.
Fascinating to think about. I’m a singleton, so I already have a lot of alone-time in which to think, but I think WAYYYYYY too much. I overthink. I have recently learned about metacognitive therapy for helping people who think too much about their thinking…and I think that’s a great idea! 😉
I’m also an extrovert – I spent ten minutes chatting with a stranger about the relative merits of different kinds of cheese in Fresh Market the other day – but especially after coming out of 15 months of unplanned solitude, I know I don’t need any further time in this lifetime for boredom or solitary reflection! Except for when I’m trying to write (and those ideas already come during my walking/driving/showering non-screen times), I do my best *real* thinking when I have someone off of whom to bounce my ideas and with whom to brainstorm. All that said, it think someone who has too many sensory inputs and not enough downtime would definitely benefit from the possibilities of creative boredom!
Hi Julie – thanks for offering an important, different perspective. I totally missed the angle of too MUCH alone, retreat time, and now I’m steeling myself from going back and rewriting half the post! I’ll also have to be a bit of a geek here and remind myself of the actual definition of extroversion, which isn’t necessarily just about people. Extroversion includes an orientation to outward objects, sensory experiences, and action, as well as engaging with others. I do think that a Do-Nothing Retreat could be done in tandem or in a group situation – something like a “Hey, Let’s Be Bored Together” gathering.
And now I’m off to learn about metacognitive therapy – thanks again for the thoughtful comment!
I was just thinking about this the other day! I’m guilty of filling up my blank time with screens, or study, or staying busy. I could definitely live more in the moment each day and just be present with my thoughts. Love this.
Thanks, Melanie. Staying busy has become sort of a weird badge of honor for some of us, hasn’t it? I know I fall into the trap. Glad you were thinking about the same thing (great minds ;-))!
How this one resonates with me, Sara! I relate to everything you said. One thing caught my attention. I walk every day either in the woods or by the river. It’s good for my mind and body. But one thing I always do at the end of the trail is to stop. I stop moving. I look and sense what’s around me. In that pause, I recognize that while the walking is wonderful, there is a busyness to it. When I stop, I take in what’s around and within, in a different way. Yes. I get that it’s not a LONG retreat, but it’s part of a mini-retreat.
Yes, the mini-retreats are super helpful, and it’s cool that you notice that distinct difference between motion and the pause. My mini-retreats usually involve sitting on a particular rock by the river in our neighborhood and staring at the water. I think they can also happen in situations like sitting waiting in a car, or even in my home office. Thanks for commenting, Linda!