Indolence
Freedom from pain.
I write this on Jupiter’s day and in Jupiter’s hour. The bigness feels palpable. To me, at least.
Bear with me.
A friend of mine is doing a beautiful decan walk and published her article on Aries III this morning. It’s beautiful and chock full of information and thoughtful wisdom.
After reading, I thought of my attempt last year to do a similar, but different, walk of my own. I struggle with taking up space and sharing my words and so that attempt fell short of my own hopes and expectations. That’s ok. I’m human and I’m doing this thing and it won’t always be perfect. I haven’t yet determined (in my minds soft and squishy places) if it safe enough to share my real thoughts. Putting my words, my precious thoughts, it’s like inviting strangers into my home. This is objectively, so weird.
My thought spiral took me to another place as well… what if I go backwards as she goes forward? This will help me “make up” the parts of the year I missed and create another outlet for my spinning mind. I will start with Pisces. Then I drew my card of the day. And Jupiter did appear.
{Annnddddd it just occurred to me that I don’t like to repeat what others are saying thereby avoiding tension and competition, leading back to my title of indolence and its modern definition of “lazy”.}
I love a good full circle moment. Especially when unplanned.
Ok! back to my real title; Indolence - Freedom from Pain
According to Vocabulary.com-
The noun indolence means a habit of laziness, especially when avoiding work. In the 1600s, indolence was mostly used to mean "insensitivity to pain," from the Latin indolentia, "freedom from pain." About 100 years later, indolence came to have its current meaning, possibly because of the phrase "taking pains," which means "being careful." If you are so careful that you never leave the house, people might think of you as lazy.
𝑰𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒂
I drew a card this morning. The 8 of Cups. I used a different deck; The Light Seers Tarot by Chris Anne. This card is called the Lord of Indolence in the Rider Waite Smith deck. It covers the beginning of Pisces. Thus began my thought trails. In the RWS deck it’s clear there is an avoidance, looking away from… whatever the past held for the figure. It’s a mournful looking card, full of sorrow. I do not see those same ideals in the LST deck. It is full of movement, decision, fortitude. A choice was made. There is light on the horizon and the Sun teeters between day and night and the figure walks toward it, maybe proud but certainly resolved. Something new awaits. Only one cup is left visible. Though it sits on water, it contains a fire. To me, this looks like ritual. Returning to the “other” what no longer serves the self.
T. Susan Chang calls this The Farthest Shore writing,
“By forsaking the familiar, the accounted-for, even the rational! we shall encounter magic and mysteries.”
I called this Indolence, thinking of its older meaning—freedom from pain. Not laziness, not avoidance, but a quiet refusal to keep hurting. And yet, what I’ve found instead is something that looks like idleness. The kind of time that opens up after you walk away. The kind of time that doesn’t demand anything from you. The 8 of Cups doesn’t just leave—it creates space. And in that space, something unexpected happens. Not productivity. Not urgency.
But creativity.
Once we finish doing “what we should” (Capricorn - 2, 3, & 4 Pentacles) and start fantasizing about what could be (Aquarius - 5, 6, & 7 Swords), we breach the walls and move beyond. We give ourselves permission to draw down the Moon. Bask in lunar reflections within the watery depth of Pisces. Reminisce. Enjoy a little nostalgia before becoming Alice and walking through the looking glass.
Maybe that’s the real discomfort of the 8 of Cups—not the leaving, but what comes after. The quiet. The space. The absence of urgency. We are so used to proving our worth through effort that we forget what it feels like to exist without friction. But if you let yourself linger there—just for a moment—something begins to take shape.
Not forced. Not extracted. But offered.
A thought. A feeling. A flicker of something honest.
Not everything that looks like nothing is empty.
Some of it is the beginning.