Why I chose to live a boring life
Do you live a full life or a busy life?
🏷️ Categories: Minimalism, Happiness, Loneliness, Time.
People tend to associate a boring life with an empty one. It’s not like that.
In fact, the opposite can also be true: an “exciting” life can be an empty one — full of motion but without direction, packed with plans but devoid of purpose. For years, I chased excitement: I loved the rush, the changes, the feeling of being “alive” every minute. Over time, I noticed something uncomfortable — that constant craving for novelty wasn’t vitality; it was a deep fear of boredom and of missing out on something others were enjoying (and I wasn’t).
Today, I prefer calm.
I like knowing what will happen next; I don’t need to chase novelty anymore.
Living a boring life is, in fact, incredibly fulfilling.
The charm of a boring life
A boring life seems dull, flavorless — but it isn’t.
Having experienced the other side — the hustle, the constant distraction, the emotional highs — I discovered that stimulation was, paradoxically, what numbed me most from what I truly wanted. Today, when I meet someone and the conversation turns personal and I tell them I write, I often hear a curious reaction:
— “How interesting!”
The irony is, it’s not. At all.
My days are extremely predictable. A friend jokes that I’m like Kant, the philosopher who used to take the same walk every day at the same time. He was so punctual that neighbors set their clocks by him. My friends could probably guess what I’m doing at any given moment just by checking the time.
I laugh when they say it — but deep down, I understand.
Kant found in routine a kind of order that allowed him to think clearly; I believe that’s why he was such an extraordinary philosopher. Like him, I feel that my mind works best within structure. Psychologically, humans hate uncertainty — it clouds our minds.
We can’t think when everything around us is chaos.
We can’t invest when the economy is unpredictable.
We can’t thrive in uncertainty.
Routine gives us the stability we need to achieve our goals.
I’m glad I missed out
During the pandemic, my mind collapsed.
I tried to keep up with everything — news, numbers, rumors. I wanted to know everything, control everything, miss nothing. Instead of being informed, I became poisoned. The brutal torrent of negative information led me into an anxiety crisis.
Since then, I’ve chosen to disconnect — for mental hygiene.
I stopped watching the news, and my use of social media today is limited to writing. Since doing so, I’ve avoided overinformation and the algorithms that decide for us what’s important. I no longer spend hours scrolling aimlessly, and that’s why I don’t suffer from FOMO. I hardly know what’s going on — and I’m glad about it.
Instead, I now devote that time and energy to passions that grow slowly, naturally.
The Comfort of Routine
Routine feels suffocating to many — that’s why so many dream of vacations.
For me, routine is freedom.
I love the security of knowing what comes next. My days follow such a stable rhythm that it’s soothing: writing, reading, exercising, resting — all in order. When life stops being a roller coaster, the small moments that once felt bland recover all their flavor, like Hirayama’s life.
A beautiful sunrise.
A morning cup of tea.
A walk with no destination.
A quiet conversation.
Modern overstimulation makes us develop a tolerance for intensity, and everyday life starts to seem dull. But when you lower the intensity, the ordinary becomes exciting again. Reducing intensity lets you notice beauty.
It’s the silence between notes that makes a melody beautiful.
Not turning up the volume.
Less intensity, more emotion.
Minimalism Pays Off
I’ve always hated waste.
The Japanese have the perfect word for it: Mottainai — the regret of letting something go to waste. That idea inspires me every day. I love taking care of the objects I own, extending their life. I try not to follow trends, avoid impulse buying, and I don’t feel the need to exhibit my private life or show off luxuries.
Because of that, I save a lot of money and mental energy.
Everything I own serves a purpose. Every expense has meaning. A calm life brings financial freedom. It’s simple: make use of what you have, spend only on what’s essential.
Minimalism brings peace, money, and something that’s becoming extinct…
Silence.
Silence to think. Silence to hear what used to go unnoticed. Silence to realize that behind all the “doing,” there was no time left simply to be.
We’ve grown used to filling every minute, believing that an “interesting” life is one in constant motion — but nothing is more exhausting than living overstimulated, surrounded by people, just to feel alive.
A boring life, on the other hand, doesn’t need to prove anything.
It’s complete in itself.
Maybe that’s true freedom: not needing to entertain yourself to tolerate yourself.
✍️ Your turn: Do you live a fulfilled life — or just a filled one?
💭 Quote of the day: “I find there is a quality to being alone that is incredibly precious. Life becomes more vivid, more rich, more full.”
— Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Gift from the Sea
See you in the next letter — take care! 👋
thank you, alvaro. i'm totally with you on this. my quiet time is in the early mornings. i watch the light change. see shadows inch across the yard. that's if the sun is out. cloudy days bring their own sombre moods. keep going. ur fan, j.
It appears you've learned a valuable lesson at a young age that is something it took years for me to learn. In fact, just yesterday, I sat in my garden, simply enjoying being. I set down my knitting and listened to how silent the garden had become in the mid-day period of rest for birds and other creatures. I had done my chores, including my "computer" time. Then I thought I should be doing something productive. Not just sitting there enjoying my garden. It was a guilt that a lot of retired pr newly-unemployed people experience because they are used to BEiNG PRODUCTIVE. They can't go on those dream vacations because they think they should be doing someing productive. It's crazy, Alvaro. I finally told myself I've earned that place in my life to sit and enjoy the garden I've worked so hard to plant and maintain. It's time to sit and BE. I felt like I'd crossed a threshhold at that moment. I'm glad you have learned how to BE.