The lost art of doing nothing

In a world where we carry more books, music, and films than ever before, it seems as though the simple act of doing nothing has become a lost art. In an era where finding something to do has never been easier, the real challenge lies in finding a moment when we're not occupied. At a departure gate recently, I observed a man in a suit watching a football match with no sound, a teenager laughing at something only he could hear, and a young couple scrolling through two separate versions of the world. It became apparent that we had all left before the aircraft had even taken off.

Flying used to be one of the last places where one could escape the constant reach of the world. Once the doors closed, the outside had to wait. Now, Wi-Fi is creeping aboard, and we pack enough downloaded content to circle the planet twice. Even when Wi-Fi isn't available, we find ways to stay connected, checking messages, news, scores, weather, and recommendations – all for a quick glimpse into other people's lives.

We live in a peculiar species, constantly seeking stimulation and rarely satisfied with the silence. Reed Hastings, co-founder of Netflix, once said that the company's real competitor wasn't another studio, but sleep. As a business strategy, it's brilliant, but as a reflection of our modern lives, it's frightening. We prioritize our smartphones, screens, and constant connection over the basic human need to lie down and switch off.

Boredom, at least, put up a fight. It was the one stretch of the day when a screen couldn't quite reach us. We no longer experience boredom; instead, we watch one more episode, filling every pause with endless entertainment. While boredom may not be the empty thing we once believed, it still holds value. Long journeys were once accompanied by landscapes that entertained us, from clusters of houses to farmers walking behind their cattle or children playing cricket in dusty fields. We remember those journeys more vividly than our last movie on a flight.

The issue isn't solely with technology, but rather with our own attitudes. We've become so skilled at killing time that we've forgotten how to spend it. Every gap demands to be filled, and every pause feels like a loss. The smartphone and streaming queues have robbed us of the ability to sit with our own thoughts without seeking external stimulation.

Next time I fly, I might follow the example of the man in the suit and leave my headphones in the bag. I might look out of the window instead, wondering where the cyclist is heading and who he is racing against. Perhaps, in that empty space, I'll rediscover the man I once saw, cycling furiously towards an appointment only he knows about. I don't want to look him up; I simply want to wonder. I miss being bored, and it's a feeling I'd like to bring back into my life.