“To work in the dark, you must be able to hold your own light, and still be intimate with the darkness.” ~ Thomas Lloyd Qualls
“It followed that the powers of light and darkness were not wholly and always opposed to one another.” ~ Walter Van Tilburg Clark
“Light requires the high relief of darkness. Seeds sprout in darkness. Children are conceived, and the sun reborn. Death returns us to it. Darkness is not … it’s not wrong.” ~ Rachel Hartman
Another deep cold morning. I decided not to write a post yesterday. The reality of Trump’s impeachment was overwhelming in many ways. It’s hard to know what to make of it, and it looks like the fireworks are just beginning. Sigh. So many Republicans seem like old fellas kicked back in their Lazy Boy recliners, waiting for a blond to bring them another glass of Chateaux Noir. But, enough of all that. I’m all about the sluggish feeling I have at the moment. I can feel also that I will be vital and cheerful during the coming workday. But it’s not a matter of black and white, of either/or. Both will do just fine, thank you very much. I’m not one to hit the ground running, on any given day – a quart can of Red Bull on the bed stand, groans of protest as the speed . . . oh, never mind. The title of today’s post refers to the photo, which is not in black and white. The ice fog was so thick that morning that it sucked nearly all color out of existence. That’s what depression does. Depression is a dark place to be, but not totally dark, except in virulent moments, when it truly does go all black. Day to day depression, of the clinical kind, does what that fog did — it sucks all the color out of life, yet gives you enough of a sense of hope to know just how hopeless things “truly” are. Ya gotta have a reference point, dude. You just do. Yeh, I’ve been in a strong yet manageable depressive spell for a coupla months now. Look at the photo: that’s the sun rising. There’s a woman I know that evokes that feeling in me. The Light may be obscured, but it is within sight. Like totally, dude. All told, it really doesn’t matter who she is, but there is that one, at this time. Ob la di ob la da. I tend to get too relativistic. It’s just something I do. Years ago Spirit, through the mouth of a trance channeler in Casadega, Florida, told me – no, admonished me! – to learn to say no. Seems like accomplishing that also means that I have to learn to say yes. The fog can’t last forever, right? Yes, right.
All is well. Goof gloriously.