MY SAVING GRACE

I suppose now is not a good time to read a book about addiction, depression and things that go bump in the night. But the In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts came available on my Libby app and I couldn’t help myself. I am already hooked after a few pages. You could say that my passion is understanding our human-ness, what makes us tick and what doesn’t. In my next life, if I remember, I will choose something in psychology for a profession. In the now I am continuing my journey as a self-help junkie.

My saving grace has always been my thirst for knowledge and the belief that there is something we can do. I guess you can call that optimism. But it wasn’t till I was in my 40s before I realized that before I change my circumstances, I have to change my behavior/actions. I cannot just sit back, yearn and yearn and not do anything different. It would be like howling at the moon. That knowledge sat for quite awhile before I could put that into action. I am not a fast mover. I am the tortoise.

We know from the story of the story of the tortoise and the hare, the tortoise does get somewhere. And I have made some miles. In these early days of September, I am recognizing and understanding my symptoms of SAD. I understand and am a little kinder to myself. I try to be more active, be outdoors and in natural light more. It helps to have a plan for the day. Writing helps. Looking through my art journals gave me a shot of pleasure. I will have to bring out my paints, pens and brushes again. Then there’s my cross stitch kits and knitting. Knitting is very soothing, very much like tapping on the keyboard.

MY GENE POOL

A lovely sunny Saturday morning. I will try not to let it slip away on me by useless redundant thinking and scrolling through the Internet. I love the early morning light as it dances through the sunroom. First it is the faint orange glow of the sunrise. I look up to see if it isn’t the ceiling lights. It isn’t. It is as if I’m on a stage as I move through my qigong routine. Things are sharper and colours more vibrant. I am at ease. I watch as the light turns more golden and plays along the walls. Soon it is gone, to return later in the day.

I have to be present to catch these precious moments. It is the time of day when I am opened and freed from the cares and despairs of our modern world. It is a good time to fill myself with hope and optimism. This morning I am reading Larry Dossey’s The Extraordinary Healing Power of Ordinary Things. The title speaks for itself and to me. I am a huge fan of the ordinary. I’ve experienced a few Eureka! moments already just in the first part of the book. I’m more awake to understand and question things as they are. So much for my wanting not to do these very things.

I might as well give up trying to fight myself. I am who I am. After all, my maternal grandfather was a teacher and principal. I believe I got my high principles, stubborness and stern nature from him. Like they say, the apple doesn’t fall from the tree even a generation removed. It’s hard to disregard your genes. It’s not as if I chose to be serious. I would much rather be gay and the-devil-may-care. I would  rather have fun than the way I am. A coworker once accused me of always reading ‘strange’ books. She called me ‘eccentric’. That’s the kind of family I come from. On my mother’s side, that is. When they get together, they talk about things that matter, family history, village history, the way of the world, health, what food to promote health and exercise.

I suppose we are an eccentric bunch. But it is all good stuff, don’t you think? We’re always thinking and learning on how to do things and live better. My mother continues to fine tune her soups for maximum benefit. She consults her book of soups for ingredients. What roots, what barks, what berries for this and that. It’s no wonder I am the way I am. Like mother, like daughter. I gotta like that.