Depression, Side of Belovedness

I pushed snooze twice today. I never push snooze.

Meditation did not go so well once I did drag myself out of the bed that seemed to have placed a magic suction spell over me and was actively pulling me deeper into it. As I began my days work I felt myself moving with uneasiness, operating from a mentally and physically tense being; all the moments seemed the same.

What is going on? I wondered, doing the internal scan I do to figure out where I am on the scale of health. What could be triggering me ? Did I eat something? Am I blocking out my emotions? Am I present to my own activity in the moment or am I distracted thinking about other people and other moments?

It was not until the early afternoon when I realized what it was assailing me: a wave of depression. It had been several days since a wave; I was feeling in the clear again. I was a young pilot garbed in a brown scarf with goggles on my forehead posing for ritzy photos before I took an amateur flight. Yes, I had flown before, but last night when I laid my head down there seemed to be no sign of enemy aircraft. I was grateful, I was cocky. Then I woke up.

Every moment the same. Surrounded by artillery at every corner of the mind. There was no clear anymore–the conflict had broken out inside of me. There was physical pain in my head and my limbs, there were emotional knee jerk reactions in my spirit and dull nothingness in my heart, there were birds falling from the sky around me.

There I was: the yoke of the plane to my right, ready for any manipulation of my altitude that I may find appropriate, and the wheel in my hands. I wondered why I had so young been given control of myself, my sacred aircraft. Those wonderings were useless so I set to work re-vamping the body scan, eliminating anything weighing me down (the wonderings had to go). I threw overboard my self-victimization. I threw out my denial of the situation. I threw out woe is me and all the ways I was tempted to waste the day in hopes that it would improve itself (when truly I–not the day–bled for improvement).  Over the blue sky I clutched the deep, unnatural urge to throw up my hands and throw myself down on the couch glued to a screen until the day passed (hopefully the pain with it); abandonment for a short time, to pretend the problems–enemy fighters, thunderous clouds, utter meaninglessness–were not there.

And Wendell Berry spoke to me:

a three-dimensioned life;
stay away from screens.
Stay away from anything
that obscures the place it is in.*

The bulky urge to surrender slipped from my grip as I hesitantly loosened my hold.

In letting it go, crashing down through the atmosphere in order to empower my upward mobility, I began the climb back up. The wave of darkness did not overcome me.

This morning I may have been smiling too brightly. Oh well, I am wiser now, as I lay my head down on the cool pillow, than I was last night when I did the same.

Still alive, still beloved.

Always, life.

Life, always.



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