On Boredom
Four of Cups
Cursing was allowed in my house growing up. My mother was a big fan of the word “fuck,” which with her English accent didn’t sound rough or uncouth, and my father didn’t curse nearly as much but was heard to utter “damnation,” often enough, which now sounds pretty old fashioned. So ours was a sort of dignified cursing, educated and used among other words which were well placed and executed intelligently.
What was not allowed in my house was boredom. If you were bored you weren’t trying hard enough, not thinking enough, not creating enough. If you were bored do something about it. Boredom was a dirty word in a home full of creation and artistry, books and paints. My mother said on more than one occasion “The worst thing you can ever be is boring.” I think she was referring to public behavior as much as home life here. But bored I often was. An only child with parents in their own silos creating, I was expected to entertain myself. Is the opposite of boredom entertainment? The idea that our own brains are so incredibly fascinating, creative and active, that there could never be a moment of complete boredom, is what I was faced with, and never quite lived up to, because I was in fact, often bored. And sometimes lonely.
We first see the word “boredom” in 1768, a slang term picked up as related to a boring tool, the repetitive act of boring a hole, slow and tiresome. But the word boredom became popular through the work of Charles Dickens, notably through Lady Dedlock’s words in Bleak House (1852):
“And I am bored to death with it. Bored to death with this place, bored to death with my life, bored to death with myself.”
Later in the nineteenth century we get some of the best bored characters in literature, Anna Karenina and Emma Bovary (there is a psychological syndrome named after her!), and we know what ends they came to.
But I digress. The last two weeks have been tough on me. I impaled my hand with a knife (avocado hand is a thing), and had to get stitches, which meant I had to take a couple weeks off of the gym. Additionally, I had to prepare for a common medical procedure which required me to be at home for two days, during one of which I couldn’t eat anything. I watched back to back episodes of Incarcerated Girls on Netflix (a topic for another post), I knitted, I read, I talked to my dog. And then I was bored. Listless, nothing sounded good (except eating). I took naps, scrolled Instagram, did some laundry, poked around my vegetable garden, took a bath. And was bored. And felt guilty about it. I should be enjoying this down time. This is called relaxing, right? What I found was being forced to stay home felt different than choosing to stay home. I wanted out. I was, like Lady Dedlock, bored to death with myself.
I’m almost back to normal now, the stitches come out in a few days. I’ll be back to my daily go, go, go and I bet I’ll be yearning for some solitude and relaxation at home.
The Four of Cups
I’ve never considered this card a depiction of boredom until this week. When I read this card I usually interpret it to mean that this guy has enough on his plate and doesn’t need any more. He seems to be refusing the offering with crossed arms and legs, meditating on what he already has and ignoring the offering.
But with my state of ennui earlier this week and last, I came to look at the card a bit differently. The look on our figure’s face could certainly be interpreted as bored. “Nothing looks enticing,” he seems to say. He has options but they just aren’t interesting, even this new cup coming his way. He is outdoors. He could take a walk, climb a tree, roll down that hill. But no thank you. Maybe the Four of Cups is as much a feeling as anything else, that blah feeling when nothing looks or sounds good, even though there are plenty of options. The good news is that boredom usually passes. If it doesn’t we know it is time for a change.
Be well, and if it suits you, be bored.
xoH