Ennui (In Praise of Philip Glass)

von Marcus Krug

You’re wondering, if I am bored. And I say, yes, I am bored. Which is not to say, I am boring, mind you. But this is for others to judge. To be bored usually is a feeling of listlessness and dissatisfaction arising from a lack of occupation or excitement. Boredom, as it happens, is defined as an unpleasant, transient affective state in which one feels a pervasive lack of interest and hence has difficulties concentrating on the current activity.

Being the person that I am, I happen to have a low boredom threshold. This basically means that I am hardwired to pursue novelty and inspiration, and to run as fast as I can from admin work and drudgery.

Susan Sontag is supposed to have said that “The life of the creative man is lead, directed and controlled by boredom. Avoiding boredom is one of our most important purposes.” But as with many things in life, I venture to disagree. It is not to be avoided, it is to be sought after.

I am sure he does not like it when I say this and most of you will definitely not agree with me on it, however, I think Philip Glass’ compositions are boring, causing boredom. But I will come back to my claim later in this essay – if only for the sake of contradicting myself.

I am bored when I am on the train. That is basically the reason why I get on a train, in the first place. And I try to get a window seat, as well, all the time. Seeing houses, people, cows and sheep pass by, I soon get lost in thoughts, space out, which already is a reactive response to boredom. It is a meditative state in which I can become my most creative self. And do you know who helps me with that? You may not believe me, but it is Philip Glass.

I am bored and I sit there close to the window, listening to Philip Glass’ pieces on my headphones and my mind won’t stop coming up with idea after idea and thought after thought. And my hands won’t get tired of putting those thoughts into words in a file on the laptop in front of me, while houses, people, cows and sheep fly past. The trick with being creative with the assistance of the new technologies is, to be able to withstand the temptations of ordinary distractions like the deep spaces of the internet. Do something for you, instead of with you. Use your boredom wisely.

I have to correct myself yet again, Philip Glass’s music is not boring at all, but it helps me to get the most out of a situation when I am bored. It is like a state of ecstasy. Boredom does not only give us the time but also the freedom we need to do the things that are good for us. It smooths the way for us to disconnect and gives us free rein over ourselves, meaning our mental faculties, our very own creativity.

If you have come to the point where you can accept boredom for what it is – an opportunity and not a threat, to be avoided – then you will be able to get the most out of it for yourself. Use your boredom wisely.

I am bored at work. Everyone might have already been given the opportunity to attend meetings and workshops, which seem specifically designed to put all attendees to sleep. From an evolutionary point of view, sleep – with its inherent exposure to dangers of all kind – poses a threat to the individual’s life. Boredom, like pain, is often protective, serving to spur us away from repetitive and predictable experiences and situations of entrapment that it would be in our best interest to escape.

I am bored when I am out with people who I do not have any connection to. From a spiritual point of view, this can be life-threatening as well. Boredom, it seems, might also be so universally despised, because it is indicative of an unhealthy mental state. Being surrounded by people who do not share your interests are preventing you from becoming who you are supposed to be.

And yet again, Philip Glass’ compositions are not numbing my senses, they rather spur my creativity with their repetitive waves of innovation. An explanation for this rather oxymoronic phenomenon is that the repetitiveness of his compositions lures you into a boredom-like state which the music itself is going to interrupt soon enough when he changes only one single note in a sequence, at a time. This very note drags you out of your lethargy and sends you off into the realm of inspiration. It is like whipping a top. It spins and spins around, but keeps getting slower, which we may even want to call drifting into boredom. Then you whip the top, like Philip Glass whips the one single note in the sequence, and it picks (you) up again. You are back to attentiveness.

When I am bored, I see it as a reminder to change something. Boredom shows me that I am not developing myself further with the things I do. It shows me that I am stagnating. And this is what we have to avoid at all cost – inertia. Boredom helps us to identify our indolence. And by avoiding lethargy we can also spur our creativity.