Heavier than the light thought

It’s strange to be surrounded by the beauty of things and yet, at times, be blind to it all. Each day, I have the opportunity to simply look up and see the mountains that surround me.

I need only walk into the garden to see the fruits, vegetables and flowers getting larger and brighter each day. In that garden, I can also watch and play with the 11 cats and kittens that have taken up residence there.

Stepping back inside, I have three large dogs, always ready for major hugs and rubs. I don’t even have to bribe them with pasta or peanut butter. I see work progressing in many different areas of my life (especially my personal life) within me and outside of my influence. And yet, sometimes…

A siren’s song invades again. A call that begins somewhere inside me and rises up and into the now of things without an invitation. This call is familiar and a mystery STILL. It spills out over the beautiful views and hopeful motivations. It can bring doubt, sorrow, restlessness, memory shows…

When I was much younger, I used to fight these feelings. I thought of them something alien pulling me from a rewarding life. Something separate from life that shouldn’t be engaged and understood, but ignored and hidden. You see, often people don’t like the reality of you as much as the creative concept of you; constantly trying to pull you out of anything heavier than the light thought.

"Perhaps he's gone mad?"

I don’t have the problems with myself that I once did. I don’t care to censor the reality of my state of being for others anymore. The effort required to construct some prime-time, family-friendly version of myself is too much. It’s also absurd. I don't walk around in this life just feeling hostility towards others, so I'm allowed my quota like everyone else.

This doesn’t mean I’m roaming about looking for people to bollock with my discontented moods of the moment. This doesn’t mean I wish to rain on every parade or have an existential chat about death and dying over dark beers. I don’t seek to hand it/them off to anyone.

I simply need the permission to have it/them. Yes, they’re as real as any smile I may have; as any laugh you’ll hear coming from me. These other aspects of me are also real. Just as common as the sunny day is the gray day. I must accept them all, yeah? After all, I’m not in charge here.

And I find that it’s not always a bad song that’s starting up inside me. Sometimes it's wisdom posing as a pain. Other times it’s pain, hiding behind pride or embarrassment. Sometimes it’s simply an opinion that others would rather you choke on than challenge or bother them with. It doesn’t remove the Mountains, garden, cats, kittens, pups or sun rising cheerily in the sky.

It/that/this is a part of it all. Not separate. My days are rarely all one way or another. Only in my head.

Do I have a tendency towards depression?

I live and need and think, so… yeah.

However, I think this more accurately describes the entire situation:

“Some days are sulky, some days have a grin
And some days have bouncers and won't let you in.”
-U2, Some Days Are Better Than Others.