“When I was young, I had to choose between the life of being and the life of doing. And I leapt at the latter like a trout to a fly. But each deed you do, each act, binds you to itself and to its consequences, and makes you act again and yet again. Then very seldom do you come upon a space, a time like this, between act and act, when you may stop and simply be. Or wonder who, after all, you are.” ~ Ursula K. Le Guin, The Farthest Shore
“Mankind accepts good fortune as his due, but when bad occurs, he thinks it was aimed at him, done to him, a hex, a curse, a punishment by his deity for some transgression, as though his god were a petty storekeeper, counting up the day’s receipts.” ~ Sheri S. Tepper
“Life had stepped into the place of theory and something quite different would work itself out in his mind.” ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment
This morning’s sky seems almost like a message, drab, like my mood after an unwelcome storm, and reminiscent of those flat New England skies in Winter. My own drabness is the residuals from a fairly serious situational depressive spell yesterday afternoon. One nice thing that situational depression has over it’s nasty and dark cousin clinical depression is that if you have trained your mind to discern one from the other the resulting rationality, however faint a signal it may broadcast, assures you, quite rightly, that “this too shall pass”. Clinical depression, as I experience it anyway, is having none of that; it is all gloaming against full Darkness, all the time, and the prospect of a victory by Darkness hanging over your hyper-fretful head is no more than the extortion of the soul, wedging it into believing that it is all real. All of it. The Darkness, the gloaming. The hopelessness, the powerlessness. And the anger turned inward, to where it bores down deep, causing tectonic tremors, so in the end you are not just being extorted by the gloaming, you are also fracking the soul. Ouch. I’ve done the rationality training thingy, so I know that the seemingly perpetual down is an artifact of neurotransmitters and endocrine juices, and I suspect that it also involves a serious glitch in the morphic fields, in a campaign to rob your life of any or all novelty. Imagine a life of pure unadulterated habit. Doesn’t that prospect horrify you? I think it should. Wait, what? What’s the ‘morphic fields‘ thing? Go back and click on that link. Fascinating stuff. It rings true with parts of my worldview. I’m really into fields and field effects. But there is no time to write about that now. But one thing . . . yesterday I was reminded of one of those effects in my personal life, one that has traversed the years, obviously. I saw one of my old coworkers from the natural foods supermarket. I was at work when it happened. As she walked through the door of the store I recognized her and felt a brief wave of trepidation. When she saw me, recognized me, then spoke out a greeting, she emanated frigid inconvenience, and disdain. And I was like all ‘what-ever’. Seeing her and experiencing her reaction to me was an actually welcomed validation of some serious tension I felt between us back then. Stuff like that is all too easy to pass off as paranoia. Never do that until you know. Doubt, or true skepticism, is the way to go. It fascinates me that she still has not let it go after all these years. I mean, what bugs her so much? And should I be happy about it? It’s all good, right? I’ll go with happiness. She can go pave over her own path any way she wants for all I care.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.