Imbolc Woodpecker Moon
Not sure how serious, but I can feel the clouds rolling in, a definite darkening of the inner horizon. Missed a call tonight for the Sierra Club legislative committee through some technological foul up. Maybe on my part.
Sorting through my fear about exposing my writing to the light of day. I know this needs to change and change can trigger a melancholic episode, too.
Doesn’t have to be reasons when the light begins to dim. I feel heavy, slow, molasses on the floor, thick curtains to push through. Could be the unseasonable weather. I know it seems weird, but I really like the cold and the gradual procession of seasons. This tempering and sudden switching feels somehow wrong to me.
As I said the other day, I know I can’t change the weather, so adapting to it makes sense. Enjoy the beautiful day! Sunshine and warm weather. What’s not to like? But a part of me, a strong part, wants March back in late winter.
Or, maybe, I feel this way because I’m becoming melancholic.
The melancholy is a family thing, a genetic inheritance. The bipolar gene runs in my family, I’ve said it before here. I’m not bipolar, but I have these melancholic episodes from time to time, sometimes with little or no trigger.