Tag Archives: melancholy

IN BLACK AND WHITE

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I really should go to bed but I am here, tapping out a few words and thoughts. I really shouldn’t be enjoying a cup of tea. I’ll be up to the bathroom a few times during the night. But I am thirsty and seeking a bit of comfort. It’s goiji berry tea. I’ll be good for me. In times past, Sheba always kept company with me. My fur baby’s been gone for 3 years now. I have to wing these times on my own, without her soft animal body close by.

Life, I should really say I feels strange these days. It’s a sense of detachment, unachored and maybe a little unhinged. It feels like being underwater. There’s no sound. No one can hear or see me. It’s like the sound of one hand clapping. So I come here to be seen and heard, to put my thoughts and feelings down in black and white.

Perhaps I’m feeling melancholic after reading Doris Lessing’s The Grass is Singing. I’m identifying with the female character, Mary and her tragic life. Though it is set in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe), it could easily have been in my small Saskatchewan hometown. Our lives were small and limited. I have more sense of it now than before. I’m not sure if it’s true or not but it does make me sad. It will pass when the book fades from my body’s memory. Sad is not always bad. It is restful.

Now I can take myself to bed. My tea is finished. I’ve put away a few things so I can have a good start in the morning. I have to pay bills, bake bread and clean house. Those are my priorities. Then I need to make a trip to our community garden. Someone has been stealing our carrots! Why do people do that?

OUR/MY STORY

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April 15th. The month is half gone. It felt like it’s just started. I’m showing up in this writing space for the Ultimate Blog Challenge even though I’m feeling melancholic. I hope it is not catchy. I don’t want to pass it on. I can blame it on the time of day. It’s 6:31pm. They say that after 3 pm our energy and mood goes south. It’s true for me. I’m a morning person now after years of being a night owl. The sun has set for me though the weather app says sunset is at 8 pm. Try to tell that to my body and mind.

I’m not ecstatic that I’m such a somber person. I would really like to have a different temperament. I envy those bouncy, bubbly life-of-the-party gals. But I just can’t make myself into one, or make myself like parties. I guess the next best thing is to accept myself as is and learn to like it/me. I’ve been drawing my life in the 100 day project challenge. I’m getting to know the lines and curves of mine and my family’s faces. I feel the stories of our lives through the drawings. Sometimes it makes me happy. Sometimes it makes me sad. It depends on the story.

The drawings evoke the loneliness of an immigrant family living in a small community. I’m speaking only from my own viewpoint. I’m feeling it more as a very matured adult. I don’t think I felt it when I was growing up and going to school. I remember vividly my first inkling. It was after the summer of Grade 12. Our family had moved to New York to be with my mother’s family. I decided to come back by myself to attend university in Saskatoon. My father was still in our town to sell our house. I went to some town celebrations at the fair grounds with a friend. It was there that I felt my first experience of not belonging, of not being noticed. That feeling comes and goes. I like to think that I was wrong but I’m not. Many years later, in the fair recent present, I have been back to my home town a few times. The people that I knew, except for a few classmates, do not know me or who my father was.

Every once in awhile a memory would arise and evoke a feeling. It is not lethal. It is good to remember my place and who I was/am in this world. I remember and I feel strong and happy to be the person I’ve been and the person I’ve become. It’s been and is a very good life.

A BROKEN RECORD

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It’s one of those snow falling on cedars days days. The sun is trying to break through the clouds with fluffy white flakes drifting down. It’s kind of pretty, kind of melancholy. Don’t mind me. I’m just a natural born melancholy babe. I’m a broken record. Unfortunately I can’t sing like Judy. But I can dream about somewhere over the rainbow where bluebirds fly and dreams come true.

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It’s another day. The sun is out. The sky is bright and clear. I wish my head is too, but alas! It is like a ticker tape with running rhetorics and what have you(s). Ok, I’m being dramatic. I have a sinus cold but nevertheless, my head is thick and hollow at the same time. Nothing coming in and nothing going out.

It is yet another day. I am a broken record. I have lost my way with words and thoughts. It is true. I haven’t been using them, now I’ve lost them. It will be hard work to coax them back. Oh well, I’ve lost heart and passion, too. The world is flat. It will be an uphill climb but I’m up for the challenge. I’ve been forever plodding on this weary road. The habit is in me. It is my Camino de Santiago.

So much for my plans for a heartful February. The best plans of mice and men often go awry. Mine certainly has. It feels that way but feelings are deceiving. Sometimes they are not true. If I am a depressive, I am a highly functional one. What seems like my lowest low can outshine another depressive’s highest high. I’m not bragging nor being facetious. I’m just being truthful. I always try. I’m always on the Camino. It’s just not in me to stop, give up, give in, throw in the towel, pack it in, abandon ship, derail, fall off the wagon…. That’s not how I am.

But I am a melancholic and love sad happy songs. I do wish I could sing. I wish I could sing like this angel.

REMEMBRANCE

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Snow flakes are gently floating down, making this November day whiter and brighter. Today is Remembrance Day and I’m remembering the poppies of John McCrea.

IMG_1551In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

I am reminded of all the young men then and now who gave up their lives – for what? What is it all about Alfie?  I am melancholy, unable to understand the whys of life. It’s an appropriate day for it.  Snow flakes falls on the ground, God’s tears freezing on their way down from Heaven.

I felt God’s sadness in the night.  I woke breathless and in a sweat.  I sat up in a panic, gasping for air, wondering what had happened.  In the dark, I calmed and settled myself. You are breathing!  I reassured myself.  No worries.  Go back to sleep.  I was comforted and soothed by His presence and so I slept.

Love abides still.  In Him I trust.

Burt Bacharach – Alfie Lyrics

What’s it all about, Alfie
Is it just for the moment we live
What’s it all about when you sort it out, Alfie
Are we meant to take more than we give
Or are we meant to be kind
And if only fools are kind, Alfie
Then I guess it’s wise to be cruel
And if life belongs only to the strong, Alfie
What will you lend on an old golden rule
As sure as I believe there’s a heaven above, Alfie
I know there’s something much more
Something even non-believers can believe in
I believe in love, Alfie
Without true love we just exist, Alfie
Until you find the love you’ve missed you’re nothing, Alfie
When you walk let your heart lead the way
And you’ll find love any day, Alfie, Alfie