For some reason I feel blue this morning. I feel like a piece of charcoal that could crumble away and leave only remnants of ash. I’m hesitant to talk about my mood, but I have to acknowledge all of my moods, the positive and the negative.
Today: Seven and thirteen, two of my favorite numbers, and yet it’s a blue day. How can that be so? Is it the overcast sky that I’m greeted with this morning when it’s supposed to be summertime— and what I expect of summer mornings?
I usually go with the flow, but today, I feel myself pushing against it. I feel like a moody child this morning. I know it will pass, but in this present moment this is how I feel.
I feel a river inside of me, bubbling, wet—pain, sadness, slight emptiness. Life. That’s how it goes—from one exciting moment to another that foams out into a cascade of rain on this blue summer day.
Even the sparrows aren’t singing this morning.
Wait…
I hear one. Thank you, dear sparrow…
5 comments:
O I think it is a wonderful thing to acknowledge this. and of course it isn't anything to do with the numbers. Not even the sky, though something in you may be resonating in sympathy with its overcast state.
The way to go with the flow is surely to indulge the moody child, ask her what she wants - in your secret heart of course. She will tell you. Perhaps her gripe is in accordance with her age - something left unsorted from many years ago, whose subconscious memory has been triggered. Listen to the child, when she has been heard maybe she can be laid to rest.
Rebb,
I, too, feel blue for some reason this morning. Let's feel blue together. If we concentrate enough on blue, our blue becomes true blue that all the tulip growers have ever competed against, but never attained. So, together, we can create a tulip in summer in our imagination.
By the way, I recorded a birdsong a few days ago and tried to upload it to my blog, but failed. Apparently I need to follow a long instruction to do it. So, I gave up. I wish it requires only a click. If I tell this to my son, he would say "Are you sure you were a systems programmer?" Well. I guess I don't need him now. I feel blue enough. Hehehe.
Anyway, the birdsong is great. I don't know if you can hear it, but I'll send it to you through email. The other day, I had a friend listened to it. She said, "In my backyard, I hear birds all the time like this." Well, no bird conversations are alike! This is unique. It was recorded a block away from my home in the evening. I listened to it many times and amused by it. It seems more than one bird, but they wait while other chatter. So, it isn't an argument. It must be a love song with humor.
Vincent,
If you'd like, I would send the birdsong, so please let me know.
Vincent, I’m glad to hear your words. I need to give myself permission to explore and feel comfortable writing and sharing about these days. I guess I’ve been feeling a little bit of the weight of the world lately and maybe just some comments that I’ve heard made me mindful of the balance I need to acknowledge within myself. I’m usually a very happy go lucky person with occasional bursts of defensiveness when my feelings get hurt or I feel threatened. Anyway, I have to allow the other feelings expression so that I don’t forget what it feels like and so that I can handle it better.
Thanks again, Vincent. I think this child is going to be speaking more—at least to my other journals—and she could perhaps have other moods. I’ll have to go with the flow of the many moods—and listen.
Keiko, It’s interesting that we both felt blue this morning. Yes it’s nice to feel blue together. Oh, Keiko, I love the tulips of your imagination. That is a great image and sentiment.
Reading about what you said your son would say to you and your reply that “Well. I guess I don’t need him now. I feel blue enough,” makes me laugh. That is good laughing medicine, Keiko.
I emailed you about it, but I wasn’t able to listen to the birdsong file. My program didn’t recognize the extension. Maybe it’s a problem on my end. When I’m on my main computer in the morning, I’ll try again.
Thank you for sharing the blue day with me.
Rebb,
That's too bad that you can't listen to my birdsong. On Sunday, I went to a concert in the park in nearby community, and as I was leaving, I heard a frog chorus. Behind the woodsy park, there was apparently a small stream running from a mountain, I guess. Yes, I recorded it for twenty seconds or so. Too bad, the world cannot hear the nature songs from here. Right now, it's 9:10 pm. Outside, crickets are blasting their music.
They sound so busy. Busier they get, more relaxed I feel. Thank you, crickets, and thank you, Rebb and Vincent for lighten up my day.
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