Blue Days
You are not alone...
It’s a melancholy day for me… I feel a little sad... I don’t know why…
We all have bad days…
A brighter day is on its way.
Sometimes… when we are feeling better than ever—the past hurt creeps in… it does for me…
The same lessons…
There were times when you didn’t realize how hard things were… you thought it was normal, or that you were feeling pretty good.
When you finally feel really happy, healthy, and inspired… we might look over our shoulder tenderly—catch a glimpse of our last selves… we look back and realize, wow… those were dark days—and it hurts… I’ve shed a few tears these last few days… I can now that I’m in a safe place to reminisce instead of just in the midst of surviving… I don’t see myself as a victim… but, I’m overwhelmed that I made it through—it makes me think of other people in my shoes…
If we don’t know any different, we have nothing to compare to, we settle for so much less… so easily… and we give up commonly… there is no way to assure anyone that it gets better—it’s hard work, it’s not easy, and it takes tremendous courage, strength, resilience, and a thirst for knowledge, art, and faith…
To break free.
I’m trying to understand my upside-down stomach today—but I think it may be because of this feeling… that things are actually better and getting better every day… I’ve been holding my breath for decades, it seems… and I’m breathing freely now—of course, there are still personal obstacles, challenges… who we learn from every day, a primitive force—the dark and the light… pacing the willingness to love, trust, to not try and control the outcome—no expectations…
An endless quest.
But when we have dark days—we get to feel our feelings… I’ve been in my garden all day, watering… clipping back lavender, cutting roses… nothing too much—just nurturing my space and letting the flowers and vegetables surround me—I have my book at my white iron table… a straw hat on my head, a basket… and that’s enough today…
As my dogs peer at me through the deer fencing… waiting for the next round of French carrots, a stalk of fennel, or a share of my tiny fraise de bois… I toss some over the fence to funny faces… who are not so sure of the fennel… ha.
I catch Saint Francis calmly sitting next to me, carved in stone—holding a little bird.
Let me be an instrument of the peace…
I’m listening to my intuition… is someone trying to tell me something, telepathy, angels, or my Grandfather?… Is someone close to me hurting—why am I feeling this way?—It can’t be because things are so good? Wouldn’t that be crazy… Am I mourning my old funky self?
I’m trying not to judge how I feel today… just letting this ride, a little Tom Waits on the record player—I’ll see you on the other side…
I know I’ll smile again soon… Don’t you hate it when people tell you to ‘smile’…?
We’ll smile... when we’re good and ready… on our own terms…
Love,
P
