Reflections in the Boring Dentist’s Chair

There’s something oddly spiritual about sitting in a dentist’s chair at eight in the morning. Mouth open. Eyes searching for somewhere to rest.

I’d gone in with low expectations. The last time I had my teeth cleaned, the hygienist had been, well, let’s say overenthusiastic. My face looked like a horror movie set, and she even joked she had to wipe the blood off before letting me go so as not to “scare the next clients.”

So this time, when my dentist suggested another cleaning, I hesitated. But eventually, I gave in.

This new hygienist was different. Calm. Careful. Almost meditative in her movements. She mentioned it was her first day in that room, that she needed a moment to get acquainted. I told her to take her time. Maybe that small act of patience set the tone. The whole thing lasted maybe thirty, forty minutes. Painful in parts, sure, but strangely peaceful.

The Art of Being Bored

In that half hour of quiet, I thought of something I’d read recently: this professor talking about the importance of boredom. How smartphones have robbed us of it. How every gap in our day, every pause or silence, we rush to fill.

Yet boredom is where reflection lives.

So I stared at the lamp above me — that double-headed alien eye dentists love — and let my mind wander. I thought about work, about life, about nothing at all. Just being.

When was the last time you were truly bored? Not anxious or waiting. Just bored, with nowhere to run.

Maybe the dental chair is one of the last places that forces us into that state — a kind of secular meditation with suction tubes. No screens, no scrolling, just the sound of radio chatter and the quiet hum of your own thoughts.

Interrupted by Life (and Snakes)

And then (as life always reminds me) reflection met reality. A knock on the door. My daughter peeked in, curious: “Who are you talking to?”

“To myself,” I said.

Within seconds, she turned the monologue into dialogue. “Can we play Roblox? Can we make a YouTube video? About the snake? The spider? Snake, snake, snake!”

So much for meditation.

But maybe that’s the real balance — quiet when you can get it, chaos when it calls. Because just as boredom helps you think, a child’s energy reminds you to live.

So yes, book that dental cleaning. Not for your teeth, but for your mind. And if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll come home with both a fresh reflection.

And a new story about snakes.