Beltane                                                                          Emergence Moon

Been on the slow boat these last few days, walking with that peculiar slightly stoved-in upper body typical of lower back pain sufferers world-wide. I’m not a fan of those days when my mind’s not sharp, whether the cause is melancholy or percocet or persistent pain.

Thankfully that fuzziness has lifted and clarity has begun to blow through the temporary cob-webs. As that happens, I’m reminded of a possible utility for melancholy and, perhaps, pain’s distraction, too. That is, melancholy often occurs when life has shoveled in more data, more choice points, just more. The trigger may seem to be an experience, emotional distress, or a recurrent worry, but in fact the trigger may be more like a thresh-hold device. In this understanding your mind has more to process than it can handle. It could be that a major creative project has been bubbling along below consciousness and as it surfaces overwhelms the mind.

So melancholy and perhaps physical pain can put the brakes on more data, more ideas, more experiences as the mind catches up, sorts, makes decisions. This doesn’t change the unpleasant affect of melancholy or the sleeplessness and anxiety it can produce on its own, but it can help us understand why such a phenomenon has persisted in the human animal.

Sometimes, when I’m most on my mental game (not often in this case), I can sense the onset of melancholy and sometimes (even fewer instances), then I can dredge up what has occupied me below the surface. When this has happened, I find melancholy a rich time, even as it puts out the drag chute and stops consciousness from rushing forward, ahead of itself.

On Maui Mt. Haleakala rises high above the lower reaches of the island, an extinct volcano with a huge caldera. Tourists often visit Mt. Haleakala around 4 a.m. so they can see the sun rise over the eastern Pacific. The chill of the height and the early morning creates a cold fog that rolls in through a large gap in the caldera, the ocean breeze cooled into a cloud formation that obscures the volcanic cone and the caldera. Then, as the sun rises and heat begins to dissipate the fog, the down coats and sleeping bags draped over shoulders come off and Mt. Haleakala suddenly becomes visible.

So, this time, the sun has risen, the fog has begun to clear. Thanks be.