but not quite as good as monday, pms and a migraine -- which some would argue go hand in hand -- and then go ahead and add bitter cold wind, overcast skies, and intermitten rain.
and isn't that part of what life is about? experiencing the sad, and the sorrow, and the hard stuff so that we can really know joy and happiness and the difference between well-being and the other?
I just found this poet, Jane Kenyon. She was a modern poet, and really wrote some quite beautiful stuff. "8 Credo" is an excerpt from her poem Having it out with Melancholy. The whole poem is really . . . thought provoking. It also reminds me of the sections in Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert where she personifies depression sitting in her room and snuggled up next to her in bed. Interesting, sad, sorrowful stuff.
Here is the promised poem.
Pharmaceutical wonders are at work
but I believe only in this moment
of well-being. Unholy ghost,
you are certain to come again.
Coarse, mean, you'll put your feet
on the coffee table, lean back,
and turn me into someone who can't
take the trouble to speak; someone
who can't sleep, or who does nothing
but sleep; can't read, or call
for an appointment for help.
There is nothing I can do
against your coming.
When I awake, I am still with thee.
For me, today, I am happy that the pharmaceutical wonder called ibuprofen exists to help me manage my migraine, that I can go to lunch with PB&J and friends, and that the sun always manages to break through the clouds.
(like this picture? I took it in Hawaii. You just can't feel bad in Hawaii. It's a state law. Or should be.)
Last Friday, at the Middle Carrotstick's soccer game, the skies spit rain on us for about 10 minutes. But when it was done, the setting sun rewarded us with a glorious full magical rainbow. Unfortunately, the only little leprechauns I saw running around were wearing soccer cleats and chasing a ball -- not lucky charms -- around the soggy field.
But. I don't think we would have enjoyed or appreciated the rainbow as much if we hadn't been sitting out on that field, enduring the rain (without umbrellas) first. There is joy in the contrast.
Sorry. This ends Waxing Philosphical (with unoriginal thoughts) by the Lunch Lady. We now return you to your regularly scheduled whatever.
overcast picture originally downloaded by Patrice Balard