Well, I came home from a trip abroad with Covid – despite having had the most recent vaccine booster (#8 for me!). Still, here I am, in bed. Nothing serious and I’m sure I”ll recover quickly. Yet, it’s darned inconvenient to have to isolate myself. Sometimes our bodies issue commandments we must obey! I think of what a mild inconvenience it is in the face of all that many people must face. So, I ask myself, how can I make these days alone in my bedroom “count”? I’m always saying I want more time alone – and here it is handed to me, and I respond with being “bored”. Hmmm. I have spent time trying to “clean up” my computer of old files, duplicate photos etc. But, that gets old fast. Then I think, OK I’ll just buckle down and read an entire book in these next few days. And, even though I am completely engaged by the book, (Anthony Fauci’s memoir, "On Call"). Still I get “bored”. What is boredom exactly? It seems to be the lack of novelty. And, what is this internal need for novelty, distraction? I remember being at a retreat with Jack Kornfield once and someone brought up the issue of being bored while meditating. He said “Yes. It is boring. Go ahead and let yourself be bored. Explore what “being bored” is like. Let yourself “die of boredom”, he said and see where it takes you!!
Here is Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer’s take on Boredom!!
Hello urge to be productive.
Aren’t you so sincere?
I see how you think
because there is nothing to do
but wait for the next two hours,
wait for the next five hours,
wait for the next seven hours,
you think I should do something
useful and industrious,
something practical and time efficient.
Something generative.
As if to sit and do nothingis not a gift.
As if waiting is nothing
but an invitation to work.
As if the goal in life is to
check things off an eternal list.
The longer I sit
,the harder it is to hear you,
well-intentioned as you are.
See how I sprawl on the floor now?
And now, how I rock on my heels
and hum and swing my hips?
How I close my eyes
knowing I won’t fall asleep.
Oh the kingdom of boredom.
How it takes everything I have
to meet it and let it rule me,
to treat it like the treasure it is—
the chance to not be clever,
to not shine, to wander between ambition
and disappointment, between mettle
and quietude, to find a chair
I might sit in for a while
and meet the urge to be productive.
And not open my book.
Not pick up my knitting
.Not study French.
Not converse with a stranger. Not make the call.
Not even smile as I type not a word.
To see more of Rosemerry's poetry, click HERE.
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