Here's the thing. I'll tap dance on a dime. I'll tap dance if you ask unrudely. In fact, I'll tap dance even when there's no one there at all, on the chance someone might pass by. Not to show off, or to accrue credit, but merely to add my piece to the puzzle—which, in my reckoning, is the entire point of this corroborative art project.
I tap dance just to tap dance. In fact, the only thing that can stop me from tap dancing is people staring blankly, waiting, in their boredom, for me to tap dance.
In that circumstance, I used to tap dance desperately, trying to rouse...something. The dancing would suck, and I'd chalk it up to my own inconsistency. Then I developed some restraint with age. Dead eyes and entitled attitudes not only creeped me out—they'd always creeped me out—but they made me more reluctant to tap dance. I'd occasionally give it a game go, but it never felt right.
Now, at 63, I'm tight as a drum. I'll still tap dance on a dime, or for an empty room, but the dead eyes—what Italians used to call the malocchio (though the term is less common now that this has become the rule, rather than the exception)—shut me down like a toggle switch. It's not emotional. Not some moral resolution. It's that I've stopped flailing against the inevitable. Interestingness cannot persist in the face of boredom.
I've written a lot about boredom over the years (e.g. "Boredom", "Boredom, Certainty, and Frozen Perspective", and "Why Does Time Pass Quickly or Slowly?"), framing boredom as a dynamic property, rather than the vacant gap we imagine it to be:
Your boredom is God's kryptonite.How do I know boredom works in this counterintuitive way? I'm interesting, and innately zestful, and have found, again and again, that the only thing in the universe that can thwart my irrepressibility is boredom. So I speak from direct experience.
Bored outlooks ensure boring experiences
Nothing's more boring than boredom
Bored people spray boredom. It's the ultimate rebuke of Gandhi's exhortation to be the change you wish to see in the world
This isn't about me, though. I write this as a minor envoy from Planet Interestingness, where motion, stimulation, and creativity abound. And this isn't my lament. It's my response to yours. As a light snippet of tap dancing, I offer this amiable explanation for your boredom.
2 comments:
Took my grandkids swimming at the local Rec Center today. Swimming with children is the opposite of boredom. Every little thing I or they do in the water excites them, and that the grills me. Watching them play and move every muscle and learn about what water does and how you can push the water to make your body move. Not only was I thrilled playing and watching my own grandchildren but there were so many other parents and grandparents with children (and babies!) having the same experience! Just thought I’d share the ‘opposite of boring’ experience from just today. My grandkids know that if they ever want to go swimming they can call me and I’ll go with them. It thrills me to experience this with them. My grandma and grandpa Miller used to take me swimming in the ocean every summer and I hope my grandchildren remember me taking them swimming with the joy in my heart like I remember my grandparents taking me. 🥰
Yes! Kids are the answer! Animals, too!
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