“There are two kinds of teachers: the kind that fill you with so much quail shot that you can’t move, and the kind that just gives you a little prod behind and you jump to the skies.” ~ Robert Frost
I love today’s opening quote. I would like to suggest that his wisdom might apply to management as well. I admit to being dragged under lately by reading of situations in the world these days, current events if you will, and of course I have no solutions, yet I still adhere to the possibility, which I see as a probability, of an en masse evolutionary shift in human consciousness. I seriously doubt that it will happen in my lifetime, truth be told I seriously expect my cat to outlive me, but only for a while. The magical cat named Rosie would be devastated without me. We’ve been through a lot together, but it was my in-house caregiving as my mother was slowly dying from terminal esophageal cancer that sealed the deal. I took Rosie with me to mom’s house, in hopes that she would do some sweet lap-sitting time, but Rosie was clearly disturbed by the illness, from either the smell or the overall vibes of grave illness. She wanted nothing of it. When unconditional love entangles two souls there comes a bond that can and will transcend time and space. There have been periods in my recent life, say within the past eight years, when it was Rosie alone who kept me grounded as suicidal ideation grew strong and dark, creating a feeling that could make lead look like feathers. She held on tight because I was afraid I could not hold on tight. I’ve been feeling that way the past few days although I haven’t sunk down into the depths. Mine, my mood, is like a wave-whipped boat floating on the sea of murky depression.
The cat bite is healing well, no doubt because of the doxycycline. My right hand is still swollen a bit this morning but the sickly redness of inflammation is gone. I can now make a fist again, although it makes the skin on my knuckles as taut as a drum. Be ye not alarmed, I would only use a metaphorical fist should any threatening situation arise. I seriously doubt that such an occasion will arise but you never know what might, as Alfred North Whitehead once said, “undergo the formality of actually occurring”. I stand prepared. But my hands are full of tiny tremors today. There are days when I am unwilling to go out into the world. I’d rather stay home in my fortress of solitude, so to speak, watching Star Trek Voyager on Hulu. No superman am I. And I will go. The good news is I only work a half day today. Then I have an appointment with the pretty doctor lady, my psychiatrist, this afternoon. It’s a med check, a followup, but she always lifts my spirits because we always chat as friends, which I believe that we are. Mental illness sucks, and it helps to have friends at such times when it hits hard and persistent. And using the metaphorical fist against it only serves to make it worse. That doesn’t make sense.
The morning sky has a cloudy cast, tarnished pewter right at the starting gate of a new day. Yes, it is a new day. Move forward. Sweet treasures come to those who do not wait. Yes, it is a new day; time-honored wisdom no longer applies. I doubt I can get used to that. As I said, I await the shift in consciousness that will lift humanity up to a new, a clearer way of living in the world. Until then pushing forward might only serve as a way of shoving the future. Who knows what kind of reaction that might arouse.
“If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore; and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God which had been shown! But every night come out these envoys of beauty, and light the universe with their admonishing smile.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
Happiness is a choice, my choice for the day.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.