Can a little boredom be good for our brains & our creativity?
Photo by Alejandro Barrón
When I was a kid growing up on a farm, boredom wasn’t something you had to seek out; it was just part of life.
There were endless rows of corn to weed, long afternoons mowing around barns and outbuildings, and hot summer days spent lying on the living room carpet in front of the box fan. (We didn’t have air conditioning, so that fan was the only relief.)
Sometimes there was music or a radio station in the background, but often it was just me and my own thoughts. So I made up stories. Entire characters and plots would play out in my head as I trudged up and down the rows or steered the mower in wide circles. Sometimes those stories made it onto the page; sometimes they stayed in my imagination. Either way, they passed the time and stretched my mind.
On long bus rides home from school, I would get too carsick if I tried to read, so I would stare out the window, watching clouds drift by. From the outside, it probably looked like I was doing nothing. On the inside, though, my brain was busy wandering, exploring, connecting, and creating.
I wasn’t immune to television or computer games in my youth. And the isolation of rural life often felt lonely. But in hindsight, I can see how much space boredom gave me. My attention span was longer. My imagination had room to run wild.
Fast-forward to today, where the world seems designed to eliminate boredom. Any pause in the day can be filled instantly with scrolling, streaming, listening to a podcast, or answering emails. Even folding laundry or going for a walk can become “productive” if I fill the silence with input.
But here’s the thing: research suggests those quiet, seemingly unproductive moments matter more than we think. Psychologists talk about the default mode network, the brain system that lights up when we’re not focused on a task. Dysregulation or overactivity in the default mode network can be problematic and is tied to mental health difficulties. But spending just a bit of time in that mode, here and there, might actually be helpful. It’s in those unfocused states—daydreaming, staring out the window, waiting in line—that our brains make new connections. That’s often where creativity lives.
Journalist Manoush Zomorodi explored this in her book Bored and Brilliant. She found that when people intentionally allowed themselves to be bored—even for small stretches of time—they came up with more creative ideas and problem-solving approaches. Boredom, it turns out, isn’t just an empty space. It’s a fertile one.
So lately, I’ve been wondering: how can I reclaim some of that gift from my childhood?
I don’t intend to give up podcasts, audiobooks, or screens entirely. They’re wonderful in their own ways. But I’m experimenting with weaving small doses of intentional boredom back into my life.
Folding laundry without any background noise.
Taking a walk and just listening to the crunch of my footsteps.
Letting a long drive be quiet instead of racing through another chapter of an audiobook.
Spending a few minutes before bed in silence, rather than automatically reaching for my phone.
It feels uncomfortable at first. Silence and stillness can be unfamiliar, even unsettling, when we’re used to constant stimulation. But as I think back to those dreamy afternoons on the farm, and how much space I gave my mind to wander and breathe, I wonder what might resurface if I make room for boredom again.
Maybe the best ideas don’t come when we’re trying to force them. Maybe they come when we let our minds drift.
What about you? Do you remember a time when boredom fueled your imagination? And is there space for it in your life now?