I am in bed in the daytime. So probably sick. I am 4, maybe 5, and bored.

And then I see them. They are floating above me, from right in front of my eyes all the way to the window. They’re tiny, these little things.

I reach up to touch one and they scatter, like shy creatures, leaving just my hand in the light.

I let out a little sigh, and let my hand drop.

But just as I forget about them, they come back!

Here they are again, these dancing, floating little somethings. If I hadn't already been taught that God made every single thing, I would call it magic: the way I see them only when I’m still. The way if I move a tiny bit toward them they go from floating to dancing. And how if I move my arm up and try to grab one, they all go away.

"Mami, what are these things?"

"What things?"

"Here. Do you see them?"

"Where?"

"Right here. In the air?"

"Oh, that's probably just dust."

When I first heard Karla McLaren suggest that boredom is in the anger family of emotions, I was all wha—??? Come again?!

But the more I've gotten curious about emotions, their energy, how they are trying to help us — always, every single one, even the ones we malign — the more this somehow makes perfect sense. And the more I see things through a friendly body-as-ally nervous system lens, the easier it gets to navigate challenging feelings.

What I’ve noticed is that boredom has a kind of trapped energy to it. Energy with nowhere — not yet — to go. There is a kind of nudginess about it. Know what I mean?

Chances are we aren't literally trapped. We have agency to get up and move. But by the time boredom registers as such, there is a kind of frustration in it. And if we don't understand the wisdom inherent in every single one of our emotions, we might ignore boredom's cues and automatically reach for something to push down the nudginess.

Me? I will probably find myself staring into the fridge or the snack cupboard for something to put in my mouth, even though I'm not actually hungry.

Or picking up "that hopeless little screen" (hat tip to Leonard Cohen for the phrase) and getting sucked into the scroll. Suddenly no longer registering boredom but now at the mercy of an algorithm that does not want me to look away.

4-year-old me in bed in the Faja Maisan in Chile was experiencing something adult-me can forget: if I can become still enough for my attention to be, even for a beat, exactly where I am, I may experience something magical. Something not dictated by the powers that be. Something that isn’t going to clamp the lid on energy that wants to move. An idea I have never had. (Or noticed!) A feeling I’ve been trying to outrun or out-to-do-list.

What about you?

What arises when you allow yourself a beat to actually feel bored?

I’m here. I’m listening. And I love to hear from you.

xo Heidi

PS. Last week, in my nervous system community—The Friendly Awarewithall—I taught a masterclass: Anger as Your Ally. I had invited my clients to bring a friend, so there were a bunch of new folks registered, not all of whom could show up live. I reassured them there would be a replay. And then...

I forgot to press record.

Talk about frustrating!

But when I got curious and listened to what my frustration wanted for me, it was NOT to berate me for forgetting. It was:

To offer the class again.

So I am.

It’s happening on Monday, May 11 at 6 pm Eastern. Via Zoom.

Would you like to be my plus one? I’ve got you. It’s free. But if you want to attend, you do need to register:

Masterclass: Anger as Your Ally

Heidi Fischbach, EdM [she/her]​

I also write over here on Substack — come find me, in Second Person, there.

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xo Heidi

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