'I found a copy of George Fox’s Journal in the library, and read of his wilderness experience.' Photo: courtesy of Matthew Callow
On bored: Matthew Callow finds ‘a potent energy’
‘There is often an emotional pain-barrier I have to pass though in Worship.’
When children complain of boredom, we can get irritated. I should know, I was such a child. As the years pass, we become more articulate and dexterous, able to engage in expressive activity and all the occupations and distractions that come with growing up. For me, this included drawing, poetry, prayer, study, partying and a career in mental health nursing.
With increasing spiritual hunger I joined a Franciscan order, with its solitary retreats. The fantasy of being alone with nature resulted in the realisation that I knew little of the natural world, even finding it frightening. I found a new enthusiasm for saying liturgy, did long periods of contemplation and reading, all through extreme boredom.
Going to bed and rising got earlier and earlier as the dark evenings brought on depressiveness, with a short-lived euphoria at daybreak. Woodland walks exacerbated spiritual and temporal disorientation, and visits to village churches led to feelings of vexation and loneliness. I had an encounter with the other side of boredom, where thoughts and emotions became irrational and out of control.
As this intensified and my sleep deteriorated, I started hearing voices, though I knew from my previous professional work that this was unlikely to be the onset of mental illness. I also located myself with the Franciscan tradition, where voices have been heard in the wilderness, and the task of the hearer is to discern a response. As the week ended and my final meals were bought for me, I felt an emerging sense of reorientation and certainty over the path I needed to follow over the next few years.
I was only able to engage with this bewildering experience in the knowledge that I was under the spiritual guidance of the monastery’s guardian, who was skilled in helping me stay anchored. Soon after, I found a copy of George Fox’s Journal in the library, and read of his wilderness experience. I took the opportunity to further explore this other side of boredom before moving to a more active Franciscan house as part of the noviciate.
I did this with a growing sense of convincement that silence, the basis of Quaker worship, was where I would find the experiences of healing and connectedness my soul desired. A year later I left the community, shortly before I was due to take my vows, doing so with a fellow novice with a long Quaker connection.
Since then, Meeting for Worship has become central to my life. Very often I find it intensely boring. But I never see this as a negative. I now understand boredom as potent energy, seeking expression though creativity.
There is often an emotional pain-barrier I have to pass though in Worship, manifesting as busyness and then distractedness, with joyfulness on the other side. I sympathise with Friends who seem restless, yet faithfully persevere each week. I always hope that pastoral Friends are supporting them.
