“Fiction is one of the few experiences where loneliness can be both confronted and relieved. Drugs, movies where stuff blows up, loud parties — all these chase away loneliness by making me forget my name’s Dave and I live in a one-by-one box of bone no other party can penetrate or know. Fiction, poetry, music, really deep serious sex, and, in various ways, religion — these are the places (for me) where loneliness is countenanced, stared down, transfigured, treated.” ~ David Foster Wallace
The light is coming up. There has been no more snow since I woke at 3 AM. What remains is magnificent in the way it sits on the fences and trees in the yard. I feel dizzy and hungry. I have food and will see to that in a while. The dizziness of morning will fade as the morning progresses. It always does. Laundry will be done today. Who knows what else. Today is Beltane. With the misty snow-laden morning arising the Veil between the worlds is thin. I can feel the presence of Ancestors, and of the Spirits, and of the Faerie Folk. With these companions the day will proceed. Of course I will watch for magick. I always do. And said watchfulness shall spread into a search for some direction out of the place of stuckness I inhabit these days. There’s plenty to do but I don’t feel motivated. Motivation just isn’t my thing lately, not for many months. This is the change I am looking for. What I am talking about is a view from within a long-standing spell of clinical depression. There are time I could just scream. There are times I dearly wish I was not quite so open about this dark place, but I have committed to spreading the word, so I persevere. Perseverance furthers, says the I Ching. For now, I believe I shall go walk in the snow, over to the pasture across the road, and see what them four donkeys are up to. Onward.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.