I feel confident that I am able to process all the craziness. I refuse to succumb to the doom & gloom. I am still positive. I think it's a choice. A choice I always come to naturally. I always, always, always lean to the light, I try to take the "long view," putting a positive spin on things, seeing the silver lining to any dark cloud.
You know, I think of Charles Dickens great line form "A Tale of Two Cities" - “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.”
That is life. Always.
I think I'm just wired to see the glass half-full. I can be stubborn that way. And if I am confronted by worry, doubt, fear, sadness; my natural tendency is to find reasons to be cheerful, happy, calm and assured. That can be super-annoying for some of the people with whom I converse. I know lots of very cool, engaged, intelligent & sensitive folks. Recent events have been quite overwhelming.
So much worry, doubt, sadness, fear.
It get it. Still, I think, it could be worse, we will make it thru, lots of positive things happening, the world is turning, change is in the air, planet spinning. What looks bleak may actually be the beginning of a new reality, a new vision, a new day. Who knows?!
I also wonder if the people have gotten soft. Whatever happened to toughness of mind & spirit? Discipline? Whatever happened to the old Vince Lombardi maxim: "When the going gets tough, the tough get going."
But then, my dreams. What about my dreams?
Yikes. Lately my dreams have been super-disturbing. Last night I was lugging big bags, over-burdened with lots of baggage. Running late. Time running out. Looking for one of my prized guitars. It was lost in an airport lounge, overburdened and frantic that I have lost something valuable. A woman was fishing off the balcony of a building, catching perch. Fat little perch were flopping around on the tile floor. I picked one up and put it in my mouth (don't know why), and tried to chew it. It was gross. Flopping around in my mouth. I chewed furiously, trying to digest the undigestible. I found myself choking on a live fish in my mouth. I started to retch. I began pulling fish parts of out of my mouth. And then, inexplicably, on the street, I see Richard Nixon. The ex-President. The crook, the disgraced one. The Dark Prince of USA. He's old. Back from the dead with a long, white beard. Sort of a Zombie Nixon. But yes, it's Nixon, the same nose, the same slouching walk. He is walking past me, holds his fingers up, flashes the peace sign*, as I choke on a fish.
*Now that I think of it, it was Nixon's customary two-fingered "victory sign."
SCENE!
Disturbing. Yes. No doubt. I think I'm fine. The coffee is good. It's Friday. Still breathing. Head full of ideas. Wonder what today will bring. But still there's that residue of horror: A live perch in my mouth and Richard Nixon back from the dead... Yikes... worst of times, best of times...
