Oceans dry to dunes when I declare, “I am bored.”

Sitting on a bench at the beach in Florida my friend K suddenly declares, “I feel bored. I want to get out of here.”

Yes, I see my own desire to be in the “next” moment. I want to ask her – to ask myself – is there anywhere to go? If I am bored in this beautiful beach setting listening to the waves crash upon the shore, watching birds fly freely overhead as the warm wind caresses my skin, my senses wandering beyond the vast stretch of pinkish horizon, can there ever be a better time or place?


Suddenly, beauty  takes on the form of sentimentality. I express some notion of inner longing. I leave the horizon for the dream of the horizon. I abandon the warmth of the wind for the recollection of warmth. I make a desert of this ocean! Soon, I feel ‘bored’ by the images of my creation and I make my way inland looking for another escape I can call “beautiful”. Will I ever succeed in occupying my mind long enough to totally eradicate the waves of boredom which inevitably rise between the brief stretches of peaceful wakes?

When I arrive at the “next” setting am I not doomed to once again repeat my declaration, “I feel bored, I want to get out of here”?  Yes, I recognize this feeling of ‘boredom’ very well. It seems to stem from my inability to simply BE where I AM. Instead I fidget, I feel uneasy, and my mind wanders into some daydream or another, leaving behind the only moment that actually exists. The moment is NOW but I am NOT. I wonder if LIFE can ever truly be boring. Can one ever feel bored if one IS ALIVE? I am, after all, alive am I not? Am I?

“Boredom” is one of the words in the human language which strikes me as very odd (“unbearable” is another, but on that later.) Only a human being would invent a word such as “boredom” to describe a moment in Life, because only a human being thinks in terms of the “next”, invariably recalling his past as a means of interpreting his present, projecting similarly onto his future which does not exist.

But is Life really a series of moments that occur successively one after the other?  Is Life a timeline that follows some kind of infinite cycle of happenings in chronological order?   Indeed, human beings do seem to experience each moment as a fragment in linear time, constantly badgered by the idea of the next moment as the present moment passes into memory.

The human mind seems incapable of fathoming the moment in its entirety, wholly, without interpreting or labeling it based upon the mind’s conditioning. The mind seems cursed to view the moment only as a fragment of some greater picture within the constraints of Time, a part of the whole as opposed to the whole itself. Thus the mind leaves the NOW in search of some other moment, in search of some other time, some other external fulfillment, some other fragment, never finding what it is looking for, never finding lasting peace, and always wanting more. Surely, no fragment satisfies as does the whole. Thus man, in an effort to quench his bottomless thirst, jumps from fragment to fragment, island to island, forgetting that his home is the entire Earth.

It is for this reason that I invent the word “boredom” and use it so frequently. For when I leave the moment in search of a distant dream I miss the very place in which LIFE exists. The Ocean that is Life dries to dunes in an instantaneous evolution driven by the imaginary wisps of perceived shadows I call “reality’. I don’t Live, I assume living in the form of a dream that is either recalled or projected. It is not LIFE which bores, but the assumption of life, the projection of life. My life has become a movement from assumption to assumption, recollection to recollection, projection to projection.

Try as I may, I can never satisfy my thirst with a mirage of the oasis.

Only the Oasis itself will ever quench my thirst.

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