Let’s give a cheer for drear . . .

Another one of those dim and chill end-of-December days.  What happens to me in winter is what happens to the landscape, things that grow: I go into semi-hibernation; I channel my inner bear.  Darkness, sleep, blankets, oatmeal and hot chocolate.  Give me those things and I will stumble through the season.  And if I must be conscious: music, movies, good books, Prismacolor colored pencils, a sheet of black paper, a compass (the better to make mandalas with). 

In a strange and inexplicable way, even the drear and dark of winter has its gifts.  The cat wedges herself between my husband and me every night and sleeps like a little furry brick; she is immoveable until 5:00 AM or so, when her wee, ferocious stomach animates her once again, and she begins her efforts to waken us by trying to walk on our heads.  Another thing I like about winter is that it lends itself to more contemplative time (for me, anyway).  If I’m passing through one of my journaling modes, I always seem to go deeper into the dark stuff.  Sometimes this is a little scary, but it’s all part of the adventure . . .

During one of those scary journaling episodes a year or so ago, I happened to be reading Thomas Moore’s Dark Nights of the Soul, a book that brought me to a deeper understanding of the relationship between depression and the soul.  More on that later. 

Meanwhile, I must give a shout-out for Mark Knopfler, whose newest album, Get Lucky, provided background music while I wrote this post.  More on him later.

And I’m off to embrace the drear of the day . . .

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About creat1ve11

psychotherapist by trade, writer and artist by temperament, over 50 and not fighting it, love the idea of snorting milk through my nose, but have never actually done it
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