"Wonder," I said to the honest woman, "I feel in mid-season form."
I never expect Ms. Wonder to take anything I say big and she did not surprise me this morning. She didn't stop plucking her brows when she expressed her opinion but the opinion she expressed was that it was good. These descendants of Russian nobility do not let excitement move them from their center, remaining balanced at all times.
The morning had taken on a decidedly pro-Genome bias. And yet, you will hardly credit it, but when I emerged from the shower, Princess Amy cast her veil over my eyes. The bright sparkly thoughts were "layer'ed o'er with the pale cast of thought." as Lupe sometimes puts it.
Up one minute, down the next, that's the Genome known by most of the Villagers. It's a chemical thing with a lot of technical jargon and a lot of guff about the amygdala, the little organ in the brain that's the center of the limbic system and the source of emotion. She is a very stubborn little organ and most insistent on getting her way.
Who was that Roman guy who wrote about the Great Web? How did it go? "If ought befall you," I think it began and then went on to say, "Know that it is all part of the Great Web."
That's how I see my depression. It's all part of the Great Web, although, in this case, it's a web of Serotonin Re-uptake Inhibitors and whatnot. Marcus Aurelius, that's the perp! I knew I'd think of his name.
Now, where was I? Ah, right, I was about to say that Princess Amy is not the boss of me! I have the magic sword of fierce intent. And it was fierce intent that pulled me from the soup this morning.
Having clad the outer crust in the upholstery of the casually employed, I bunged myself into Wind Horse and gave her rein on the open road. But most importantly, I held fiercely the intention that the open road, Jordan Lake, and whatnot, would return the bluebird to her rightful position.
As soon as I set out, I tuned the radio to "60's Gold" where Louis Armstrong sang "What a Wonderful World," and that was followed immediately by The Loving Spoonful singing, "It's a Beautiful Morning."
Having clad the outer crust in the upholstery of the casually employed, I bunged myself into Wind Horse and gave her rein on the open road. But most importantly, I held fiercely the intention that the open road, Jordan Lake, and whatnot, would return the bluebird to her rightful position.
As soon as I set out, I tuned the radio to "60's Gold" where Louis Armstrong sang "What a Wonderful World," and that was followed immediately by The Loving Spoonful singing, "It's a Beautiful Morning."
Alla ka zam! The sky cleared, the sun shone, and the birds began singing on key. Not in the outside world, which remained rainy and gray, but it was inside where the weather cleared. If not actually proof of a Universe that works to my good, then a reasonable enough facsimile.
I may never be completely depression-free and I may have to feel those blue emotions to some extent, but still, I don't have to let them steal my song. I can ride above the clouds of depression on the back of the spirit horse of fierce intent. And so I say, "Not today, Amy! I eat no pine needles today!"
I may never be completely depression-free and I may have to feel those blue emotions to some extent, but still, I don't have to let them steal my song. I can ride above the clouds of depression on the back of the spirit horse of fierce intent. And so I say, "Not today, Amy! I eat no pine needles today!"