Are you Bored? What we can learn from that space

I don’t think the modern world gives us much space to be bored anymore.

Boredom has almost become something we try to eliminate immediately—scroll, click, stream, switch. There is always something available to fill the gap. And while that can be useful at times, I’ve come to believe that boredom itself is not a problem to solve. It is a state to enter, listen to, and even protect.

I was discussing boredom with my husband recently—I love our car chats, those in-between spaces where ideas land more honestly. We spoke about how different our experience of boredom was growing up compared to our children’s. How our generation played outside more, how boredom had a different texture then. It wasn’t immediately “filled”; it was lived through. And often, it became the doorway into creativity, invention, and connection with the world around us.

I’ve chosen, especially as a parent, not to let my children treat boredom as something to escape. Not because I believe they should always be entertained, but because I believe there is always something to do within boredom—something quieter, deeper, and far more nourishing than constant stimulation.

Sometimes that “doing” looks like sitting quietly. Not rushing to fix anything. Just being still. That kind of stillness is incredibly important. It teaches mindfulness in its simplest form: noticing breath, thoughts, sounds, sensations. It is the foundation of emotional regulation, something both children and adults need more than ever in a fast, noisy world.

Sometimes it means going outside. Always an important one. Nature offers a richness that no screen can replicate—the shifting light, the patterns in leaves, the unpredictability of weather, insects, birds, soil. Time in nature has been shown to reduce stress levels, improve attention, and support overall wellbeing. For children especially, outdoor play supports physical development, but also emotional resilience and curiosity.

Sometimes it means reading. I love this one personally—perhaps because I am a poet and author. Reading is not just escape; it is expansion. It builds language, empathy, imagination, and the ability to think beyond one’s immediate environment. Children who are regularly read to, and who read independently, develop stronger narrative thinking and emotional understanding.

And then there is meditation, yoga, holding space, or practicing reiki. These are my ways of “being bored”—and I don’t mean that dismissively. I mean that I choose practices that look empty from the outside but are deeply full on the inside. They cultivate presence. They regulate the nervous system. They create balance between inner and outer worlds. Because I can do these things, I live a more rounded, calm, and balanced life.

My written bespoke healing day has deepened this understanding even further. Through listening to my clients—really listening—I’ve realised something important: there are not many spaces in modern life for deep rest. Not surface rest, not distracted rest, but true, nervous-system-level restoration. And yet we need it.

Deep rest is not indulgent; it is essential.

Neuroscience shows that deep rest activates the parasympathetic nervous system, allowing the body to move out of stress response and into repair mode. In these states, heart rate lowers, cortisol levels reduce, digestion improves, and the body begins to restore itself. Without this, we can remain in prolonged stress activation, which impacts mood, sleep, immunity, and emotional regulation.

Practices such as meditation, yoga nidra, and intentional rest have been linked with improved cognitive clarity, better memory integration, and reduced anxiety. The brain does not just “stop” when we rest—it processes, organises, and heals.

Rest is not the opposite of productivity. It is what makes life sustainable.

For my children, boredom outside often turns into play. And this is where something magical happens. A stick becomes a wand. A patch of grass becomes a kingdom. A game appears that no adult designed, no app generated, no instruction manual required. Most of the time when I have lost my children they are up a Tree! Climbing a tree, when did you last do that? Imagination unfolding itself.

And imagination is not just “cute” childhood behaviour—it is foundational to human development.

Research in developmental psychology shows that imaginative play supports executive functioning skills such as planning, flexibility, and self-control. It helps children process emotions, practise social roles, and develop problem-solving skills in a safe and creative way. These same capacities are what support resilience and adaptability in adulthood.

Imagination doesn’t disappear when we grow up. It simply changes form—into creativity, empathy, innovation, and foresight. It is how we build, relate, and reimagine the world.

We don’t outgrow imagination. We just forget how to enter it.

So perhaps boredom is not the absence of something to do at all. Perhaps it is an invitation.

An invitation to slow down.

To listen.

To rest deeply.

To create.

To imagine.

And in that space—what looks like nothing at all—something very full is always waiting.

I am waiting to hold this for you
https://peaceheallove.com/bespokehealing

When Anger Speaks

This month inside the Reiki School of Self & Wisdom has been a deep exploration of anger.

Not as something to move past or manage neatly, but as something human, embodied, and often far more intelligent than we give it credit for—if we’re willing to stay close enough to it.

And I want to begin here: I’ve been genuinely moved by the way people in the Reiki School are engaging with this work. There is a seriousness to it, but also a softness. A willingness to question, to reflect, to listen more honestly—to themselves and to each other. That combination changes the quality of everything we explore together.

Anger is one of those places where that honesty becomes unavoidable.

Most of us are taught—directly or indirectly—that anger is something to suppress, smooth over, or control. Something disruptive. Something to be managed quickly so we can “get back to normal.”

But in lived experience, anger rarely disappears just because we decide we don’t want it. More often, it goes somewhere else. It shows up in the body as tension, in behaviour as reactivity or withdrawal, in energy as fatigue or shutdown, or as a slow internal pressure that builds over time.

So instead of treating anger as something to eliminate, we’ve been learning to stay with it long enough to actually understand it.

And one of the first things that becomes clear is that anger is rarely simple. It is usually layered. Beneath it are boundaries that have been crossed, needs that haven’t been met, grief that hasn’t been processed, or truths that haven’t yet been spoken.

Anger is often pointing somewhere.

What’s also become very clear in the Reiki School of Self & Wisdom is how differently it lives in each person.

For some, it arrives quickly and outwardly expressed. For others, it turns inward and becomes heaviness, silence, or exhaustion. For others still, it is so familiar or so tightly held that it only becomes visible later, once it has already influenced reactions or decisions.

All of these are valid. All of them make sense.

The key shift we keep returning to is this: anger is not fixed. It changes when our relationship to it changes.

Left unacknowledged, it tends to harden, leak sideways, or build pressure beneath awareness. But when there is even a small pause around it—when it is noticed rather than immediately acted on or pushed away—it begins to shift.

It becomes less chaotic. Less consuming. More informative.

Sometimes what emerges is surprisingly simple: this is not okay, this matters, something here needs attention.

So within the Reiki School of Self & Wisdom, we’ve been working with a very simple ongoing practice:

For today only… can you notice anger before it takes over your actions?
For today only… can you pause long enough to create space before reacting?
For today only… can you stay with it without immediately turning it into behaviour?

Not as suppression. Not as control. But as a way of creating enough space that you are not entirely governed by the first impulse.

Because in that space, something begins to change.

Anger stops being only reaction and starts becoming information.

It begins to point rather than flood. It begins to communicate rather than overwhelm.

And what often becomes clearer over time is that anger carries intelligence. It highlights where something is out of alignment. It shows where a boundary has been crossed. It reveals what matters enough to feel strongly about in the first place.

There is also a wider movement that sometimes becomes visible when we stay with this process. Anger can intensify into rage when it is held or suppressed for too long. And if that too is witnessed rather than acted out unconsciously, it can sometimes refine into something more steady and precise: a clear, grounded knowing of what is true and what is not.

Not destruction. Not chaos. But clarity with weight behind it.

This is not a linear process, and it cannot be forced. It is more often a practice of returning—again and again—to awareness at the point where emotion begins to move into action.

And that return is where change actually happens.

What I’ve seen, consistently, is that when anger is met with awareness rather than fear, it becomes far less overwhelming and far more workable. Not because it is reduced, but because it is understood.

This is one of the deeper shifts happening inside the Reiki School of Self & Wisdom right now—not learning how to get rid of difficult emotions, but learning how to stay in relationship with them without abandoning ourselves or being entirely driven by them.

And that distinction matters.

Because when we stop treating anger as something to eliminate, and start treating it as something that carries information, it becomes part of our internal guidance rather than something to fear.

It can point us towards truth. It can show us boundaries. It can reveal what matters.

And perhaps that is the simplest reframe running through all of this:

Anger is not the problem.

Our relationship with it is.

Reiki School of Self & Wisdom