From what I can tell, bookish people (like me) really like winter, the dormancy of it, the slow sap in the veins. Was I born this way or did growing up in the short overcast days of the Northwest whittle me into this shape? The eternal question of nature-nurture. I get the feeling sometimes that I’ll have to forcibly pull my roots out of this glacial till or become so interred that I’m totally immobile.
Still, I’ve been more slothy than usual these past few months. Not just physically but mentally too. My mind has not been stirred by much of anything and the cause itself does not even seem worth contemplating. Depression? Not exactly. More like…the clouds have obscured my vision. Writing and painting are my outlets, my meditations, and yet when I even consider sitting with them, I am filled with blankness. There is enough light, but I can’t tell which direction to go in, so I just don’t.
Then there are all the adult things I haven’t been doing as planned. Finishing the wills we started 4 years ago. Getting started on the house projects that need to be done this year. Even getting birthday cards in the mail has proved daunting. My 2018 Inner Guide planner (see post on 2017’s version) isn’t exactly empty, but I don’t feel like I’ve got things on track either, as the end of the first quarter of the year comes to a close.
Last year was off to a slow start, too, I keep telling myself (although similarly paced with protest marches, which are good to take part in as moving (figuratively and literally) reminders that democracy takes work, plus damn, the kids last weekend were inspiring.) Perhaps the longer days will shake me out of this dreamless reverie. I took today off just to try to get my head right, see if I could get re-centered. Working full-time again has depleted my ability to take care of myself and things at home, adding to my feeling of disorientation.
I’ve already been rewarded for my efforts today by meeting the most cheerful and friendly guy at the store, who bagged my groceries and carried the petunias I bought out to my car. He made up little songs while he bagged, called everyone friend, high-fived people as he walked through the store and expressed gratitude for his job. I think I’ll try that tomorrow when I go back to the office. Couldn’t hurt, unless of course they think I’ve lost it at last.
Another glimmer: hubby and I watched (at his insistence, since I have to be arm-twisted into anything but the most escapist television) the documentary “Happy” last night. Things we mostly know about the origins of true happiness, but need occasional reminders of – staying active, being in the company of others (I officially want to co-dwell now like they do in Denmark), doing/seeing new things, engaging with nature, being grateful, taking care of others. I would add being kind to yourself as well. It’s so easy to beat ourselves up when we think we’re failing.
I call this “Greased Lightning Bug”
Even if this break in the clouds is fleeting, moments like this can accumulate into greater meaning. Or that is the hope. Meanwhile I’ll settle for a bit of whimsy, in the form of a sparkly green flying beetle piloted by Danny Zuko. Sometimes you just have to give in to silliness when it strikes. There’s no telling what interesting path it might lead you down.
black cloud reflections 