The Witching Hour

In the distant past, my curiosity led me to explore boredom. While many emotions are frequently discussed, anxiety tends to be the most challenging for us to handle. Through mindfulness meditation, I've discovered a swifter way to recognize and release anxiety, preventing it from becoming an all-consuming force. This approach also proves effective in dealing with extreme manifestations like panic attacks.

When faced with anxiety, I consciously slow down my breath, uttering words of reassurance like 'I love you, I am listening.' By doing so, I create space to process the emotion, understanding that a significant portion of my time will be dedicated to this internal "washing cycle." Once completed, I find myself free to move forward, often gaining insights into the root of my reactions, whether I embrace them or not.

However, what caught me off guard was the realm of boredom. No one warns you about thriving and then feeling regularly bored after successfully overcoming anxiety and stress, attaining stability and safety in life. Before reaching this point, we typically resort to creating dramatic distractions, such as ending relationships or changing jobs, to mask the sense of meaninglessness and resolution. Yet, is this diversion truly better than confronting the abyss, with the jingle of the Antiques Roadshow echoing in the background, consuming our souls and draining our vitality?

I once read a book where the author proudly claimed to never experience boredom. Scepticism crept in, tarnishing my admiration for the rest of the author's work. I yearn for evidence that disproves the notion that eliminating boredom, like other emotions, is not only impossible but also contributes to the problem. The pursuit of banishing pain, numbing feelings, stopping sadness, and eradicating boredom stems from the same root – a desire to extinguish emotions. But to what end? Emotions pose a challenge because they resist control and often contradict "logical and rational thinking," which was deemed a cardinal sin in the 20th century. Paradoxically, our emotional selves cling to rationality as the saviour of our sanity. A rational response would remind us that emotions are inherent, urging us to accept our neurotic nature or face inner decay.

Returning to the enigma of boredom, why does this emotion remain uncharted territory? Why did no one inform me that succeeding at being alive would involve facing the occasional ennui head-on?

I now realize my reluctance to admit boredom and my failure to recognize it for what it is. I've labelled my boredom as 'the witching hour,' a daily occurrence that I've resisted in every conceivable way. Instead of befriending it and heeding its messages, I've been preoccupied with other duties. I've encountered no problem that couldn't be solved by making friends with it and listening to its revelations. Yet, here I am, reminding myself to return to my breath, releasing a sigh that acknowledges life can be undeniably boring at times—and all the better for recognizing it.