Witt's End

She was never quite serene. She was too opinionated, too determined, too focused for that. Lovely, always. Strong. But not serene. Given all that, she moved with a dancer's grace. In my memories that was always apparent because she was always in motion. Whether walking, cooking, typing with flying fingers on a keyboard, writing with the precision of a calligrapher, or eyes scanning a page. It was energetic, incessant, and graceful. That grace came from purpose, and it's something I've often tried and failed to emulate. In person she was quick with a smile. Engaging, easily shifting into conversation. Quick with an anecdote, a fact, knowledge, or a witticism. Small talk was never flippant, or surface for long. That purpose, that grace was there once again.  I was always at her feet as a child. Summers, breaks, so much time was spent at their farm. And I couldn't always be outside so I became her shadow. The island counter of their kitchen was my post. Or the kitchen itse...

 Twice in my life, at times I've heard this.  "You've carried this burden long enough. All I asked, all I required was seven miles more. You've more than exceeded what I've asked. You've shouldered this load more than you needed to. Let it down.  Your nature demands you carry your share, and you take it to carrying any who fall. Your nature demands you help others.  At this point, you've given enough of your time, strength, help. Let the burden down. Rest awhile. There will be time to carry the burden over again." I don't know who else needs to hear this. But I know it's been a couple years of significant burdens. A couple years of hard health. And a time of heartbreak. Sometimes to keep going we have to rest. We have to let a burden down. We have to heal ourselves.  For a time. 

  Winter’s coming but fall isn’t over yet. We have to remember that. The nights run shorter and shorter. The days get colder. Frost and cloudy skies are soon to be omnipresent. With the change imminent my mind pushes into overdrive. I’m writing nonstop. Leaning into the skid. Pens only leave paper so I can type on a keyboard. I don’t know why I have this push now. But I’m going to use the motivation to dig deeper and find out.

 David fell. Solomon fell. Judas betrayed the Christ with a kiss. Peter denied the Christ three times before the Cock crowed. Gideon rose up against insurmountable odds. Jonathan stayed faithful. Stephen stayed true a martyr. Paul redeemed himself from his time and actions as Saul. Which side of the coin am I on? Where does my character lie? At this time I'm struggling to know for sure. Am I one who showed great promise and falls when tested? Or am I steady? I don't know and that often scares me.

Racing thoughts Rushing emotions No control.  None. For too long.  That one didn't realize. -12/12/2021

You notice how uncomfortable it feels for the rhythm in something to be off. Think about clapping on the beat at a concert. That feeling of growing irritation when a clap sounds off from others. Or when the beat starts racing ahead of itself, or of the pocket. That growing edge of discomfort. That feeling of losing control. It applies to our emotions, both when we’re slower than normal (depressed) or even faster (hypomanic/manic).   A lot of people talk about the negative effects of depression. How crippling it can be to slow down and at times shut down. But we don’t talk about how detrimental it can be to experience the opposite.  On the surface something hyper focus, lack of a need for sleep, the ability to notice multiple details at once, more energy, those sound like good things. But what if those things make you faster than society’s best? What if you can match the rhythm of others. What if you can’t match the natural rhythm of yourself? To be off kilter is dangerous. To ...