Listening to some pop music recently, I noticed how little truth or value there is in the words of many of my old favorites. I particularly questioned “All I Need Is a Miracle” by Mike and the Mechanics. It’s a terrific song, upbeat, great walking tempo; not so heavy on Message. I mean to say, “All I need is a miracle, all I need is you”?
I would seriously avoid a person who needed only me.
A long time ago (in this galaxy) while I was taking a Shakespeare class in college, a friend gave me a birthday card with a picture of Garfield—dressed in Elizabethan-type garb and holding a drumstick—on the cover. It said, “To party or not to party?” Inside it said, “That is a stupid question.”
Last night my please-drown-me-in-sleep Kindle game, Thread Words, sent me an unsubtle message.
“We but half express ourselves,
and are ashamed of that divine idea which each of us represents.”
(from “Self Reliance” by Ralph Waldo Emerson)
A week-and-a-half ago I wrote a post I could have called I Am a Writer, and said how I anticipated that embracing that fact would . . . well . . . make all my wildest dreams come true; the main wild dream being to escape immobilizing depression.
I mean, really, don’t you get sick of fighting it EV–ER–Y day?
Apparently writing isn’t the omni-cure I had hoped it would be. (It has its depressing side too.)
The other day I was skimming through my daily feed (think about that term for half a tick: “daily feed”) on Facebook. and saw a lovely face. She’s a painted drawing by Katie Kendrick, friend-and-artist (whose classes I’ve taken).
painted drawing by Katie Kendrick
(25 Feb 2017)
Something about her delicacy, wistfulness, the hint of wind (maybe she has a windswept mind as well) . . . . Also, the glints of light—particularly the one in her bouquet—said something to me. “Whispering Hope,” maybe. I liked her and made inquiries. Katie meant to paint her, but I was graciously granted permission to purchase her as is. Read More →
A place to write, a stack of scratch paper, and a cupful of pens (and a dog–Polly in this case)
So, I have a theory.
A few theories.
Abstract
This past year is probably the most difficult I’ve gone through since I was diagnosed with depression.
Summary: Twenty years ago, I tried meds. They helped for a few months, then turned on me (which is not the same as Timothy Leary’s recommendation to be turned on by drugs; depressive episodes often result in my dropping out of just about everything though, so maybe they’re related after all). After the drugs went south, I got some alternative and effective help. For many years I lived a life almost free of the disease. But like cancer—does it really go away? In the past decade I gradually became accustomed to summer SAD, then autumn SAD, holiday SAD, Spring SAD. This year it was finally difficult to find a significant number of SAD-free hours almost every day.
Theory 1
It’s important to keep busy. Read More →