The Buddha said, “If you’re hungry, eat. If you’re tired, sleep.” The implication is that you needn’t become a renunciate to reach enlightenment. You can practice mindfulness while simultaneously obeying the urges of your senses.

But where is the line between obeying the urges of your senses and operating on the unconscious bidding of your addictions?

For example, if we were to take the Buddha’s words and apply them to every human urge we experience, we might say, “If you’re wanting, steal. If you’re angry, kill. If you’re Jonesing, use.”

Obviously, the first two of these contingencies are covered by the “first, do no harm” rule; but what about that last one? Do I eat a sleeve of Oreos because I feel like it? Do I smoke a bunch of dope because it makes me feel better? After all, I could say, “I’m free to do as I please!”

Not if your goal is non-attachment; the only real freedom ultimately available to you. As students of mindfulness, we seek to notice our urges with awareness and equanimity, and to act based not on overwhelming desire but on rational choice. We act to satisfy some. We let others go.

As Lenert, the guy who shined my shoes at the Chicago airport put it, “You either master your urges or they master you.” We were discussing alcoholism, which he had beaten several years earlier. Does he sometimes want to grab a bottle of whiskey and jump in? Sure. But does he do it? No.

Do you want to rip a new one for the jerk who cut you off in traffic and then had the nerve to give YOU the finger, as if you were the guilty party? Probably. Do you do it? Probably not. Why not? First, you hold yourself to a higher standard of behavior and choose not to put more hostility into the world. In other words, your actions are dictated not by the blind desire of the moment but by an internal code or commitment.

Second, you recognize your reaction as nothing more than a predictable neurophysiologic response to a given stimulus. And since you don’t want to be a robot, an automaton, you choose a different path that empowers you and supports your understanding that every time you witness yourself rather than reacting, you gain wisdom.

Now, let’s apply this to our happiness. In a solitary moment, what do you think is the biggest obstacle to your contentment and inner peace? I’d venture to say, based on my personal experience, that it’s probably boredom. Having nothing to do creates a set of uncomfortable sensations the likes of which is hard to match. Our tolerance level for boredom is about as low as James Earl Jones’ voice played in slow motion.

So, what do we do with boredom? We run to the TV, the laptop, the to-do list, the phone, or the bottle. It doesn’t matter what we run to because, whether we admit it to ourselves or not, whichever choice we make is being made out of abject terror.

Sure, some of those choices are more socially acceptable and have less negative consequences than others but the motivation is the same; to avoid the ever-lurking terror of emptiness.

But, what happens when the show ends, when the to-do list is exhausted, when the bottle is empty, or when nobody’s home? We’re back to the profoundly painful set of sensations we were trying to avoid in the first place.

What’s the answer? I’ll give you two for the price of one.

First, pay attention. The only reason to be bored is a lack of attention. A wise friend said, “Draw a circle ten feet in diameter, and there are enough things in it that you could study your whole life and never understand.” With that much mystery so close, how can you be bored?

Second, Rush the Deacon. I heard this in an entirely different context in an airline magazine. The author was referring to one of his father’s pet expressions. What dad meant was that sometimes you have to rush headlong into your opponent if you want to reach your goal. (Deacon Jones was “the Deacon” being referred to, and the metaphor was about going for the direct confrontation with your biggest obstacle during a challenge rather than trying to sidestep it or run away).

Pogo said, “We have met the enemy, and he is us.” We are our own worst enemies, our greatest opponents (any disagreement on that point?) I didn’t think so. So, what does rushing the Deacon mean in terms of our own growth? It means, stop trying to avoid the thing that terrifies you and just be with it.

So, the next time you’re bored, you can either try to find an external solution, only to snap back to the same feeling later, you can pay attention to what’s around you in the moment, or you can just be bored. Sit with it. Study it. After all, the boredom is one of the things inside that ten foot circle.

Notice what boredom feels like in your body. Sure it’s going to start out as being pretty uncomfortable, but when you’ve done it a few times and realize you can out-sit it, you won’t continue to get that “my ass is on fire” feeling that makes you run around like a lunatic trying to avoid it.

And more importantly, you’ll stop carrying that vaguely unsatisfied feeling that you live with every day; knowing in your heart of hearts, in the deepest recesses of your being, that your life has been one big futile attempt to avoid the pain of emptiness.

So stop it, for God’s sake! Rush the Deacon! There’s power in that emptiness if you’d only have the chutzpah to embrace it. Oh, I should mention that I’m talking to myself more than to you!

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