Word After Word

 West Michigan, a cemetery of lightlessness.

These are dark days.

Really dark.

Friends in peril. And so much darkness.

(I just looked at my eyeballs and there are horrible red lines on them. Where did these come from? Yikes!) Sometimes, I think it’s all falling apart. From the inside out.

I am thinking about the yoga solstice Gingah led a year ago, what a wonderful ritual we had in that classroom downstairs, welcoming the light, making space for light. Remembering it’s true source.

I’ve been underwater these days, psychologosocially. I keep trying to remember what Andre, my salsa teacher says, whenever I make a mistake in dance (every third step): TAKE SMALLER STEPS.  So I am creeping through these days.

I went for two weeks without really writing. I couldn’t find the muse–I was in this low flat state. I went to my writing room. But I just sat there and stared out the windowthis is my view…………it looks like despair

I could not find the muse and she could not find me because I was lost in the awful mist.  (Yesterday, she popped by for a few minutes and we had a nice conversation, traded phone numbers).

This is what I tell my students, who tend to be sensitive, as a rule, because they are writers: we are particularly suspectible to joy. Keep applying joy. We are prone to depression, but TREATMENTS also tend to work really well on us, because we are so open, so responsive, so sensitive to everything.

Here’s my prescription for the Winter Blues (what is yours?):

1. Salsa lessons (even though I am not in the mood and never practice. I feel better afterwards).

2. XC Ski. Even though I broke through into water and had to have my laces cut off in six degree weather.

3. Hot baths (even though I can’t read in the tub any more because I have to wear glasses and they fog horribly).

4. Healthy food (this is hard to find in winter–keep foraging). I went to the Asian market yesterday and collected tiny jewel like baby bok choy –they are in my fridge like little pets, my baby boks choy.

5.  Wrap presents for people you really like and do not HAVE to buy presents for and deliver them. Tiny slow baby steps.

6. Read poetry.  Really, really slowly.

7.  Loud music. Bon Jovi.

8. Talk to an old person, a mentally challenged person, and a small child — you will feel so much better.

9.  Look at art books. Look at Sally Mann photographs.

10.  Get a massage. If you can’t afford it, download the instructions and trade with a trusted normal friend.

Related posts:

1. Sensors on the Fritz
2. Blues
3. CYCLING & the ILLUSION OF WINTER:FEBRUARY SPOKES
4. Gary Panter
5. What I Did On My Winter Vacation