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.