Friday, July 29, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Bowling Ball
Lately, almost everything I eat sits in my stomach like I swallowed a bowling ball. Breakfast is OK, but I have to be careful about lunch and dinner. Even a plate of fried rice will weigh me down. I'm assuming it's mostly the heat.
What I Mean By Depression
When I write about depression, I don't mean sadness. There have been times in my life when sadness was an element of my depression, but it was never the whole thing. And at the moment, sadness plays almost no part in my depression.
When I'm depressed, I don't want to leave the house. I don't want to spend much time with friends. I certainly don't want to socialize in groups. The willowy and ethereal Buddhist woman left a voice mail message for me last week; I haven't called her back. Now that's depressed.
Paperwork and other mind-numbing repetitive tasks get put off, even more so than usual.
My depression used to be made worse by seeing other people around me who seemed happy and enjoying life. Over the past few years, though, I've come to believe most people are no happier than I am. Mostly, they're running frantically from distraction to distraction, trying to avoid dealing with the essential meaninglessness of their lives.
I've mentioned previously the handful of friends who keep themselves in a near-constant state of emotional upheaval and turmoil because it makes them feel 'alive.'
Once I realized these people were no happier than I was, and sometimes less happy, being depressed didn't bother me as much.
When I was a kid, I used to enjoy sitting in a drainage pipe/culvert that ran beneath a street near my house. It was usually dry, or perhaps had just a trickle of water. It was cool and dark. I could hear sounds from the street, but they were distant and muffled. That's how my depression feels – a cool, dark place where I acn be alone.
When I'm depressed, I don't want to leave the house. I don't want to spend much time with friends. I certainly don't want to socialize in groups. The willowy and ethereal Buddhist woman left a voice mail message for me last week; I haven't called her back. Now that's depressed.
Paperwork and other mind-numbing repetitive tasks get put off, even more so than usual.
My depression used to be made worse by seeing other people around me who seemed happy and enjoying life. Over the past few years, though, I've come to believe most people are no happier than I am. Mostly, they're running frantically from distraction to distraction, trying to avoid dealing with the essential meaninglessness of their lives.
I've mentioned previously the handful of friends who keep themselves in a near-constant state of emotional upheaval and turmoil because it makes them feel 'alive.'
Once I realized these people were no happier than I was, and sometimes less happy, being depressed didn't bother me as much.
When I was a kid, I used to enjoy sitting in a drainage pipe/culvert that ran beneath a street near my house. It was usually dry, or perhaps had just a trickle of water. It was cool and dark. I could hear sounds from the street, but they were distant and muffled. That's how my depression feels – a cool, dark place where I acn be alone.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
It's Not As Bad As It Sounds
Those of you who've been reading this awhile know that I struggle with depression. I'm in the midst of it right now, exacerbated by the 100+° temperatures we've been having almost daily for the past six weeks or so.
Even when the weather is pleasant, I often find that my depression is worse in the evenings. I rarely go to bed in what could be called a happy or 'up' state of mind. The last time, in fact, was probably right after I retired four years ago.
Most of the posts on this blog are written late at night or early in the morning. It's 12:32 AM as I write this, for example. But right now, I'm mindful enough to 'step outside' my depression for a moment and look at it more objectively than I usually do.
Most of the time, though, when I post in the middle of the night, I'm in a much more depressed state than I am in the morning or in the middle of the day. The cumulative effect, over five and a half years of blogging, is to create the impression that I am much more depressed than I actually am.
Even when the weather is pleasant, I often find that my depression is worse in the evenings. I rarely go to bed in what could be called a happy or 'up' state of mind. The last time, in fact, was probably right after I retired four years ago.
Most of the posts on this blog are written late at night or early in the morning. It's 12:32 AM as I write this, for example. But right now, I'm mindful enough to 'step outside' my depression for a moment and look at it more objectively than I usually do.
Most of the time, though, when I post in the middle of the night, I'm in a much more depressed state than I am in the morning or in the middle of the day. The cumulative effect, over five and a half years of blogging, is to create the impression that I am much more depressed than I actually am.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Another Day
There was another day today. It was like every other day for me. A mixed blessing, I guess.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Thinking About Death
I was with my father when he died in 2000. He was in hospice care, heavily sedated, succumbing to pancreatic cancer.
There has not been a day since then, I guess, that I haven't thought about what it will be like to die.
I sometimes wonder, in fact, why I'm still alive. It sometimes feels akin to defying gravity.
There has not been a day since then, I guess, that I haven't thought about what it will be like to die.
I sometimes wonder, in fact, why I'm still alive. It sometimes feels akin to defying gravity.
Monday, July 04, 2011
Random Quotes
Random Quotes:
via Zen Moments:
If something looks beautiful to you, something else must be ugly. If something seems good, something else must seem bad. All perceptions.
– ZenDirtZenDust
via Zen Moments:
Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.
– Carrie Fisher
Sunday, July 03, 2011
The Quality of Life
I went for a walk last night and stopped and visited with a cat lying in what I assume was her own front yard. She let me scratch her ears, and licked my fingers because I had recently eaten some imported wafer cookies I had bought at a pizza joint.
For me, this is how the quality of life is measured. I don't care what they name the new downtown boulevard, or how many lights are on the new skyscraper. If the neighborhood pets are friendly, and the trees shade the sidewalks, and neighbors wave as they drive by, then I think things are fine in this town.
For me, this is how the quality of life is measured. I don't care what they name the new downtown boulevard, or how many lights are on the new skyscraper. If the neighborhood pets are friendly, and the trees shade the sidewalks, and neighbors wave as they drive by, then I think things are fine in this town.
Friday, July 01, 2011
My Buddhist Name
My Buddhist name is The Monk Superlative Bright. What's yours?
This is a lot easier than going to some Buddhist temple and getting a priest to hang a dharma name on you. I need to get my new name translated into Japanese.
This is a lot easier than going to some Buddhist temple and getting a priest to hang a dharma name on you. I need to get my new name translated into Japanese.
The Essential Nature of Reality
I'll tell you something about seeing the Essential Nature: it's kind of like going to see the Grand Canyon. You drive out there, however far, and get out of your car and walk to the observation point. And there it is. Wow... the Grand Canyon!
And then you say to yourself, 'Well, now what?' Because you can't stand there and look at the Grand Canyon forever. Sooner or later, you have to go back home and resume your daily life.
Nor can you just sit and blissfully look at the Essential Nature forever, unless you're a monk or something. Seeing it will change (one hopes) your attitude about daily life, but you will still have a daily life.
And then you say to yourself, 'Well, now what?' Because you can't stand there and look at the Grand Canyon forever. Sooner or later, you have to go back home and resume your daily life.
Nor can you just sit and blissfully look at the Essential Nature forever, unless you're a monk or something. Seeing it will change (one hopes) your attitude about daily life, but you will still have a daily life.
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