<div dir="ltr"><font face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif">Hi All,</font><div><font face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif">Thank you for making our introduction, Renate. It is really nice to be a part of this discussion.</font></div><div><font face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif">My interest in boredom comes from a deep interest in essentially the function of boredom in the workplace, and how we work to challenge and diverge from our daily routine and attempt to reclaim our own sense of self when we find work dissatisfying, unchallenging, and, by extension, what happens when boredom sets in. It's those little moments within our workdays that we find ourselves mindlessly doing other tasks: scribbling or doodling on the margins of a piece of paper in a meeting, folding a paper clip, or doing really any other thing we can. These small moments where we begin to diverge from the task at hand so that we can maintain some sense of awareness, or even presence, so that we don't mire in the nothingness that boredom threatens to make for us. </font></div><div><font face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif">As John mentioned in last weeks discussion about boredom and it's outcomes that "It's non-productive of capital, and so
boredom very much is a problem <span style="background-image:initial;background-repeat:initial">(I think). But is it just a problem for capitalism?</span>”" I would say that it most certainly is, or at least a problem for contemporary labor practices. Each moment we are not doing the assigned or intended task, we are, in essence, 'stealing time' from our employers. These moments where we doodle, play with other items, surreptitiously check Facebook, these are moments when we steal time, when we create within boredom, a byproduct of labor, to work for ourselves, to work to escape from things we cannot. In our boredom, we begin to find a place for ourselves, we make an effort to shift towards something other, some other state of being, as soon as we acknowledge our moments of boredom and try to alleviate this.</font></div><div><font face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif">I can't help while thinking on this topic from the perspective that I've come to it from (from labor and learning, where people focus on things that are distinct from the often assigned task at hand) to thinking about childhood and boredom. Most immediately, I find myself thinking of the zine Murder Can Be Fun, Issue #17, "naughty children". This comes to mind because so often childhood delinquency is blamed on 'boredom'. Of course, the subject of the zine is children who murder, but there is always the threat of children being mischievous or bad when bored, because they lack the discipline to not misbehave when bored. I am no expert in children, or child psychology, but I do find it interesting that before we reach a state where labor and work is a primary factor in our boredom, boredom was once assigned to youth as something to avoid at all costs: we must avoid boredom, lest we become delinquents. Idleness brings us to the devil, as it were.</font></div><div class="gmail_extra"><br></div><div class="gmail_extra">I do wonder if this has much to do with contemporary fears and attempts at assuaging boredom. Without constant occupation, without keeping busy, we would fall into the devils hands. Or, more contemporary, to be idle would lead us into a state of non-productivity, and without productivity, we cannot have equity, we cannot have goods to sell. Production at all costs, regardless of the needs of the person involved.</div><div class="gmail_extra"><br></div><div class="gmail_extra">I would like to suggest, however, that the function of boredom is actually a moment of downtime, a moment of void, from which anything could grow. In meditation practices, it is what is done with boredom that gets interesting. Boredom becomes a state that the practitioner is expected to see through to its every possible end: what happens if, in a state of boredom, we do nothing, and we just accept it? This is an interesting question. I don't have an answer for it, but it is one of the many states that must be dealt with. As an active meditation practitioner, I can tell you that for me, when boredom sets in I get antsy. I want to get up and move around. It's one of the biggest factors in why people stop meditating. It is not entertaining. </div><div class="gmail_extra"><br></div><div class="gmail_extra">But what happens on the other side of boredom? That's the question I want to ask. How can boredom work for us? </div><div class="gmail_extra"><br></div><div class="gmail_extra">Thanks again for having me here, and I look forward to continuing the discussion.</div><div class="gmail_extra"><br></div><div class="gmail_extra">best,</div><div class="gmail_extra">Lyn Goeringer</div><div class="gmail_extra"><a href="http://www.lyngoeringer.com/portfolio">www.lyngoeringer.com/portfolio</a></div><div class="gmail_extra"><br></div></div>