The Boredom Quotient: A Meditation On Time Spent vs. Time Lived

The #1 question people have asked me about my move is, "Aren't you going to be bored out there?" Those who know me know I spend every waking moment working, dancing, or taking various art and sewing classes, so it's an entirely understandable question. But my stock answer is, "No-siree-bob!"
One of the more appealing aspects of Telluride is that for a town of its size, there is a lot to do. For instance, I'm really looking forward to taking advantage of the new ice skating rink by learning how to figure skate. I'm also hoping to get involved with the radio station--KOTO--and learn how to dj. What station in L.A. would let me do that???
To satisfy my dance and art class cravings, there's the Telluride Dance Academy and the Ah Haa School of the Arts. There's also a thriving local theatre scene, including an annual playwriting festival.
And did I mention the unlimited hiking, biking, skiing, and horseback riding? My goals include hiking the Sneffels highline and Lizard Head Pass.
I must admit, too, that at this point I view the limitation of events as a blessing. I'm absolutely craving more free time to paint and write. In a city you can easily find something to do every night of the week, which isn't at all conducive to finding quality "alone time."

But aside from all the activities, one of the most important things Telluride and Norwood has to offer is a chance to participate in a community. The sheer number of items in a city can be overwhelming--the number of people, cars, neighborhoods, restaurants, museums, bars, organizations, apartment buildings, shops, etc., etc., etc. It's neverending. An individual faces the danger of being drowned in this mass volume, which in turn could lead to feelings of uselessness or helplessness. How can one little person of limited resources and contacts possibly make an impact in a city of millions? It's a daunting task.

However, in a small town it is very possible for one person to positively affect a relatively large number of people by doing something as easy as volunteering for a benefit. For instance, if I donate $25 to the Norwood Public Library, I am potentially affecting 450 people. If I donate the same amount to the L.A. Public Library how many will benefit? Maybe 1 or 2. It's wonderful and inspiring to dream grandiose dreams, but sometimes their execution is not possible in a place of limitless options, because that's where everybody goes. Sometimes the solution is to scale down in order to make your dreams more viable.

One of my favorite contemporary writers, William Rivers Pitt, wrote an article this week titled One For All in which he states, "Each of us holds the life and well-being of our neighbors in our hands. We can choose to lift each other up, or we can shrug and decide it isn’t our problem. If we are indeed a community, if we are indeed good, we can make the choice to do that lifting." He was commenting on the proposed Social Security changes, but it applies in every sense. In the city--in this city--there are communities, but there is not community. There are groups organized around common interests or areas, but there is no unification, the connections feel slight. It's very easy to not connect at all.

But in Norwood I will have to be part of the community. It's much too small a town to live in a state of complete disconnection. I will be moving into their territory, and I will be expected to reach out to my neighbors if I want to be welcomed. (And, believe me, it's much too tiny to be unwelcome!) So the choice I'm making is between living a smaller life for a greater overall benefit, or continuing an existence in a place where mass suffocates individuality and (ironically) breeds alienation. I know that I will have to forego some of my extracurricular activities, but I'm hoping to gain much more in their place.