Finding peace in a restless world is like wishing for the moon. I’m like the wolf baying at the moon. But I’m learning that it’s a myth that wolves howl at the moon. The howling is not directed at the moon. It is used as a social rally call, a hail to hunt or as a territorial expression. They have different howls that can be heard by other wolves 6-7 mile away. A howl can help a lost wolf find its way home. I like that idea. I have to practice my howling. It might help get me home. I do feel lost in these times.
I never thought I would be in this spot. I’m sure there’s a lot of us here but all the same, it is a lonely place. I’m afraid to speak of it. I’m afraid to even think of it – that I might be coming unhinged. And so we sit, alone or together like stone statues gazing unseeingly into space. Howling feels like a better alternative. And so I am here again, at my keyboard. I’m letting my fingers do the baying. It’s a little less obtrusive and more soothing to my already irritated nerves.
Yesterday while I was picking up my prescription, I walked through the mall. I thought I should get re-acquainted with it and life in general after 3 years of Covid. I had deceived myself that the 3 years had not affected me much. After all, my life style was not that much different before Covid. Even so, life after feels greatly changed on the inside. That counts even more. I feel that in the energies of others strolling through/shopping in the mall. I feel the slowness/heaviness, the acceptance of our new reality.
It is a cool 10℃ morning after a blistering hot 31℃ day of yesterday. It is windy. The sky is more cleared of smoke from Alberta’s forest fires. But the air is still thick with the smell. It’s difficult to feel up and optimistic about our world. It’s on fire and it seems we’re still sleeping through it. I hope I’m wrong.