About the all important art of living… Part 2 (in so many words)


About the all important art of living…

Sometimes when Autumn hits us, with the start of Winter, with its reminding mark as the necessity of change confirms with chill air and fallen leaves. I wonder if the vibrant color is timed to help bring tints of joy to what can be a darkening of the mind , with the days…. Enunciated in spite of or perhaps because of circulating holidays, Christmas cheer, times to reflect on Happiness, and the ones you love…Thanksgiving to put a name on the items you don’t have…but hopefully that’s overshadowed by turkey and family dramatics.
And the impending New year, as if the chaos of Thanksgiving, and the empty feeling left by Christmas wasn’t enough, you have to celebrate the ending of another year…. The successes and the failures, the losses, the expectations never met, the ambitions that fell by the wayside in the midst of survival. A pronounced countdown of the loss of not only one more day or month, but a whole year of dashed hopes… Bringing you one step, err, I mean one whole year closer to the end of life as you know it.

I hope I haven’t driven you any deeper into your potential seasonal depression. But I wanted to put a face on the pain, depression and possibly the despair that many people will face this year and try to medicate , even if its just with holiday food and shopping. I’m not just trying to sober your holiday cheer, if you have it. I want to say that even though I’ve battled and struggled along with the best (or worst) of them, this looming cloud that lies to me, tries to isolate me and replays all the worst struggles I have at my lowest points, in the midst of grief, sickness, financial worries, fear of the future, disappointments, while I struggle to keep my head above water… Like so many other humans.

There is hope to gain a steady swim pattern, there is a breathing mask and a life rope when the dark seems darkest. Its not very well hidden if we can ever get past our self and the habits that keep us susceptible to being dragged to the deep end.
The hope I’ve found is a journey. Not necessarily an instant fix, but something that must be walked out, and chosen daily.
Like taking up a cross I can take up life, take it on, live it not only as an anecdote to depression, our battle with the broken hearts. But as something like a gift. Love is a healer. Embracing the art that life is as it happens around you can be more than enjoying what you have or seizing the day. It can save you from your self, Even in the darker seasons.


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