To Tire of a Thing

  To tire of a thing is to find no surprise or revelation in it, to take it for granted to the point where it is allowed to slip by without notice, to see nothing exciting or promising in it.  To tire of a thing is the opposite pole of being lost in the nuance and scope of the thing, to wish distance from the thing, believing in the process that you know it so well that it has no effect on you any longer.  To tire of a thing is to suggest to yourself that you have absorbed and retained its essence but now no longer need it in your life.

Does it say more about you than the thing of which you tire?  Much of Life is predicated by that exquisite duality of the "it" on which things all depend.  You could, for instance, tire of false or unhealthy notions, of theories and practices that are no longer useful or growth oriented.  You could be tired of change merely for the sake of change, without any thoughts of loyalty or respect for the usefulness of something that works.

Are you in fact defined to some degree by the things you tire of and cast off?  And then there is the matter of your style in becoming tired of things; is your tiredness presented with panache or is it more slapdash, tending toward the irrational?

The thought of tiring of things is so fraught with implication that the examination reminds you of the enormous effort in waking each day to this remarkable condition called Reality which, no matter how boring or cumbersome or, itself fraught, is the landscape on which all of us own homesteading rights.

Being tired of a thing, then having the means to distance yourself from it is a great luxury and a responsibility.  Distance from a things of which you are tired seems easily achieved, but it could also send an individual life into a downward spiral, which is no small complication.

Best approach is to watch everything with care and focus.  After all, could you imagine growing tired of writing?  Reading?  Music?