Beltane and the Mesa View Moon
Tuesday gratefuls: WordPress. Ancientrails. Everyday therapy. Writing. My art form. Racism. Fighters of racism. La lucha. Sleep. Nighttime. Day. Sunlight. Grass. Wind. Water racing down the Mountains. Clouds. Lodgepoles and Aspen. Dogwood and Willows. Squirrels. Red. Abert’s. Rabbits. Chipmunks. Voles. Lilacs. Iris. Critters of Shadow Mountain Home. Also. Mule Deer. Elk.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: The growing season. Beltane.
One brief, shining moment: Water races down Mountains, all over the World, finding its way depending on the hardness of what it confronts, changing direction when it must, but never forgetting its love affair with gravity that pulls it toward the great gathering of the Waters, never giving up until it returns to the World Ocean or to the Sky or until it sinks into the Soil.
Aimlessness. Boredom. Creeping into my life. Usually in the afternoons after a productive morning, before cooking and a bit of TV before bedtime. A malaise, maybe with a tinge of angst. The desert of my afternoon hours. Sometimes a nap, though fewer lately. Sometimes a bit of TV. Of which I do not approve. An anodyne. Yet it can pass the time.
Pass the time. An odd phrase isn’t it? Sometimes I read. But I don’t consider that passing the time. I consider reading a human growth hormone received into the body through the eyes. Or, the ears if you listen. No, passing the time has a passive element to it. Oh, I’ll just do this until supper. I’ll play a game. Kate played solitaire on her ipad. Did crosswords.
I’m not much of a game player. Enjoyed bridge back in the day. The college day. Enjoy poker. Played a lot in high school. But don’t play now. Had a great regular sheepshead game, but I moved away from it. Board games? Nah. Euchre and cribbage a bit. Kate and I played cribbage.
I have often rung the bell in praise of boredom since so many folks act like it’s a sin that needs correcting. I want to be clear I’m not talking about acedia or depression. Different, deeper, darker. Acedia, or the noon-day demon, comes from the Greek meaning lack or absence of care. It became a sin in the Christian monastic tradition. Depression and acedia describe a listlessness that portends self-ruin. Not where I’m at.
Though. Aimlessness, even for a few hours in the afternoon, is boredom. I take boredom as a clue, a hint about life right now. I want neither to be trapped by a need to be productive nor do I want to be trapped by a casual embrace of sloth. Boredom exemplifies that tension. As long as that tension exists, I’ve not tipped over into acedia or depression. I’m searching for a better way to use those hours.
Use them for flourishing at this point in my life. That’s the question. How can those afternoon hours help me become more who I am? Like crossing the threshold, I’m willing to wait until an answer comes.