“All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.” ~ J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan
It came to me this morning, early, as I sat out on the deck in the dark, that I haven’t heard coyotes in quite some time. I miss their song. Another thing that came to me, while reading some of my recent posts here, is that I have not been using a lot of contractions in my writing. The two issues are not connected in any way I can determine. It’s the contractions that mystify me. Does the lack of them indicate some arcane process in my mind? I will never know for sure. It’s kind of like when I somehow gave up on writing in cursive sometime during my senior year of high school. Why did that happen? What was I thinking? Moot points across the board this morning. I must be tired. The self-analysis alone could make one tired. Oh, I’ve been yawning as well. I went for a long time without yawning. I wonder if that builds up some kind of pressure? Have I been bored silly? Well, if I am going to be bored I hope for the kind of boredom that brings silliness. I like to be silly. I was bored during my senior year in high school; and depressed. Boy howdy when my name was announced for the National Honor Society my head was down in my forearms on the table top. Apparently I was not impressed. My academic career pretty much ended there. Go figure, right? I don’t honestly remember sitting up when my name was called.
The pretty doctor lady, my psychiatrist, mentioned the possibility of changing my meds. I told her no, I didn’t want to. My sense is that the severe down cycle I have been enduring for weeks now has been predominantly situational rather than physiological. I ran out of fight for a while, that’s all. All that was left was a few grumbles. No one is impressed with that. I would at this point remind myself that fighting is not always a negative thing. In example depression would be devastating if one did not or could not fight it. And depression has one insidious quality in that it can pull a fast one and make you think you have lost your ability to fight, or that there is no reason to, or that resistance is futile (Michael Faraday might have taken issue with that last one). So my advice, mostly to myself, is to check first before giving in to resignation. Another thing is aggression. That ain’t always bad either. The blossoming of a flower is an aggressive action, as is the bursting out of a butterfly from a cocoon, or a bird from an egg. So aggression is sometimes appropriate. So now I am wondering why I am writing about aggression and fighting this morning. Does it have anything to do with the contractions? Maybe that is why I have been avoiding contractions. I have been feeling more expansive. When in a suppressive situation expansion must take any avenue available if it is to continue. Contraction has it’s own agenda, and it gets it’s turn as well. There is balance out there somewhere if you can find it. Oh my, here it is now. Please note that my regular readers here at the EyeYotee blog help me to hover near balance. That goes for all y’all secret readers as well. Especially y’all. Thank you.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.