Sunday, August 7, 2011

the good fight

Today I choose to fight. What exactly does this mean? I have to get up, I have to get moving, maybe I need to eat something... I step into a pair of flip flops and head out the door, past the pups and into my faithful little honda. Being in this car makes me feel a little better already, or at least less overwhelmed. The world seems a little more manageable when you know that you always have the option to fill up the tank and drive for 400 miles in any direction before having anything to worry about. I'm heading north, away from downtown, thinking that maybe a mcflurry is what I need. I pop my driving mix into the cd player and am immediately put at ease by the gentle sounds of van morrison. I drive and drive untill I'm sure that a long drive is exactly what I need. I'm driving and thinking, thinking and driving untill I've gone far enough north to where the speed limit goes up and traffic drops down to next to nothing. I drive until the asphalt ends and turn around. I pause to gaze at all the city lights splayed before me, like so much glitter spilt on the ground. Now its time to feel my incredible insignificance and become right sized in the face of this immensity. I am small and the world is big, all that is in me at this moment is everything, but is simultaneously nothing, in the grander scheme. I have perspective now, one of the minds greatest weapons against itself. I remember that my dear friend is celebrating a birthday and I'm overcome by the need to make her something yellow. I head back into town to find the yellow beads I'm certain I dont have at home. A brief romp around a walmart late at night reminds me of my gratitude. I am so fortunate in so many ways, gratitude is another great weapon against depression. I grab some fast food and an ice cream sandwich, never losing sight of the biological components of my condition. I pull into my driveway just as the 19 track cd starts itself over, closing the trip with the same sweet song as I began it with. Armed with edibles, something more upbeat to say, and some new beads to string up I re-enter my little world in better shape than I left it. I may not be able to ever end the war, but as they say I can certainly chose my battles, and while I can't necessarily always call this fact beautiful it usually comes close enough to qualify as poetry.

1 comment:

  1. words are your best friend.

    and i'm a close second.:)