“. . . and there’s a light in the lowlands
and a river that runs so clean
I’m a poor man feelin’ lazy
and the lowlands are callin’ my name” ~ John Dillon, Ozark Mountain Daredevils
Today’s opening photo reminds me that if you are focused on the cage then the animal is out of focus. But maybe that’s just me. I’m not even really sure exactly what that means but it may well piss someone off. Oh well. The beautiful Abby graces our opening photo today. She’s a sweetie, with eyes that hint at both green and amber. I love this animal. Her gentleness is accentuated by the dangerous teeth and claws she possesses. Her poise? Well look at her. You’ll see.
There are coyotes in the vicinity. The neighborhood dogs tell me so but I already knew it because I heard them earlier. All is again quiet, the silence marred only by the gentle hum of the ceiling fan and the tap tap tap that is the collaboration between my fingers and the keyboard. My inner peace is marred only by the waves of visceral anxiety that flood upward from my lower belly, then it attempts to squeeze my lungs but I won’t let it, so it dissipates into the breeze from the fan. It happens again and again, some artifact of genetic makeup, or maybe just a learned behavior. Whatever the source it is something that feels likely to last a lifetime. It used to scare me. It no longer does. Yesterday I wrote briefly about depression, which is also is a companion that seems likely to last a lifetime. As always I seek to learn it’s mysterious secret, and here this morning it is as elusive as can be. The current bout with this mysterious stranger has been at me for two weeks now, and I finally figured out what triggered it. I did something for myself. I went to the Yes concert, a treat that I reckoned I deserved, and it felt like joy. I’m supposed to be selfless, right? Somehow I learned that somewhere – never do anything for myself. It leads nowhere except into the thick shadowland of melancholy. And from there it becomes a recursive element within a shriveled life. How I’m going to get out of this cycle remains to be seen. Maybe I’ll just have to send up a flare, on an orthogonal trajectory, and see who responds, if anybody at all does. I would chose the orthogonal path because the direct approach seems to be prohibited to me for the time being. And the source of said prohibition? It’s the recursive cycle, silly.
Rosie the cat is unusually restless this morning It’s just one more thing that have no answer for. I sit here awaiting the up cycle, confident that it will come soon, maybe today. The prospect of its return makes me a tad happy. Maybe that should be good enough for now. I’ll go on in to work, play with and care for the cats, and wait until the wait is over.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.