I have long advocated leaving children alone with no easy distractions (television, computers) so that they can experience boredom, a constructive, fertile boredom that is not to be confused with the trapped boredom one can feel in, for instance, an uninspiring classroom. What a gift when a parent says, “Go find something to do,” instead of offering that something. Out of this ground, this blank muzzy state, an inkling can emerge of what it is we really enjoy, really love.

Children—mine included—have fewer opportunities to enter a state of creative boredom these days, just as it’s uncommon for a child to find herself outside, alone, in timeless and mindless communion with nature. We’re all so busy. Even nose-in-a-book can be a dodge for kids used to a quick fix. And what about the grownups? We’re so damn busy, too. How are we supposed to make time to lead our children out of doors, to plant a seed in dark earth and then watch, like the little boy in The Carrot Seed, and wait, and watch, and wait, until the first pale sprout emerges? And how are we supposed to find our own moments of creative boredom, to leave ourselves time to stare at white walls, to sit in the sun, to listen to the many small sounds that make up silence, to create the space in which a flash of inspiration can burst forth, to hear what the Quakers call “the still small voice within”?

One possibility is Work Less—no new idea. In his 1932 essay “In Praise of Idleness,” Bertrand Russell lays out the advantages of everyone working (no idle rich), but everyone working less. A fun read, and if you don’t have time to read it now, you can save it to Read it Later and check it out on your iPhone while waiting in line at the bank. (Does anyone wait in line at the bank anymore?) Nearly 80 years later, in another difficult financial moment, Juliet Schor in Yes! has a similar thesis, arguing that “Working fewer hours could save our economy, save our sanity, and help save our planet.” What do you think? Will it work? What will you do with your free time? What might you learn about yourself and your life if you had time to watch the paint dry, the petals of the tulips slowly wither and fall?

…reminding me of the lovely scene in one of my favorite movies, Pane e tulipani. What action must I take when the last petal falls?

Red, darling, to stand out against the white of snow, the dark bare branches of trees.

Geez, I was getting weepy over this. Have you ever seen such a beautiful location for a bookstore?

Found the above on this delightful site with the silly name sent to me by my sister-in-law (thank you!). The photos on the site make me want to pound the table and say, with Sally, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” (I heart bookshelves.)

Walter Dean Myers is being sworn in today as the new Ambassador for Young People’s Literature, an ungainly title, but a great job. His stated theme for his time in the post is, “Reading is not optional.” On NPR this morning he talks about his life, reading, and some of the initiatives he hopes to undertake, including getting people to read to babies from their earliest months of life. He believes that if  babies being born now are read to consistently over his two year ambassadorship, that alone will change the world. I’m with him. Go, Walter! Love and blessings surround you!

are spent like this: