Tag: short stories

The Scent of Depression

Morning Meds 10 10 21

In the context of the fear of reoccurring depression;

This is for those of us who have lived in depressions hell and have experienced the relief of it’s absence. We know the feeling to well of how it can creep back in. The onset of a bout with the flu frightens us for fear it could be depression, it seems a relief to realize it is a passing situation, even while we are sick.

It’s almost a scent in the air wafting in from the future. We fear it could return with it’s full fury. Debilitating, leaving us bed fast seeking sleep. Knowing all to well the guilt and shame of wasting away another day and that more guilt and shame is waiting for us as soon as we open our eyes, but we are just to tired to try.

Bad ideas seem a rational solution and hopefully, either the fear that death might be worse or compassion for our loved ones keep us continuing to endure.

We, like superstitious baseball players don our rally cap, cross our fingers and toes and sort of dig in, in preparation. It’s as if we can sense it rolling in from a not so distant horizon.

These moments of dread occur much less often for me now, but I haven’t forgotten the scent.

I woke up this morning with that foul smell in my mind. These are thoughts to that regard and also how imagines seen while meditating can be repurposed into writing.

Everything is energy including thoughts and their manifestations. Just like water is the solidified energy of two Hydrogen and one Oxygen molecule. Depression is solidified thought energy. As Wayne Dyer says, “Change the way you look at thing and the things you look at will change.”

Perfection is the goal that makes quitters out of most of us. Perfection is a mirage in the distance, most of those who pursue it persish of self criticism long before they reach it. Our best should always be enough. We are unconditionally loved, no one is keeping score.

(While meditating, a few thoughts from habitual recordings stored in my playlist titled , Reasons to be Depressed. I will leave them out)

(Next)

The realization that this playlist moves in the direction towards fear. Quick! Turn around, where is the direction towards love?

Persistent beliefs that hold you in check are distractions from the cause.

Under the Cause heading are listed the erroneous beliefs we shuffle through to ruin our day.

(This is the Imagery that followed)

A highway leading east, strewn with huddled humanity. People holding themselves with their arms, lamenting. Fetal position flashed for a moment but was gone. The people all lost in the fog of limiting beliefs. Many calling out for help hanging onto the signposts lining the highway. The signs inscribed with the words that hold them captive. A fog, a mist, a cloud thickly surrounds all, it’s fumes blind the eyes and sanity is lost to defective reason.

“What was, will always be.”

“I’m here again, this how is always is.”

“What’s wrong with me?”

“Fate has given me this path.”

“I’m an addict, I’ll never be free.”

“I’m a piece of shit.” ( my bad, poop)

“I’m so bad there is no forgiveness.”

“Damaged, damaged, damaged beyond repair.”

“I’m stupid!” (Always a favorite.)

“They said it was chronic.”

“Nobody loves me.”

“I’ve failed again, always will.”

(Well enough of that, that is depressing!)

Along the highway of darkness huddled groups of humanity exchanging their thoughts like cups of Jim Jone’s koolaid.

This imagery is the fodder for poems.

These are Thoughts, if you turn around and head the other way:

A history of falling seldom stops a toddler from walking. Our greatest stumblings block is our own voice and what we say to ourselves. A toddler is surrounded by voices of encouragement. “You can do it!”

I descended out of my hell, into my core essence, I ain’t going back.

Could searching for the causes, be causing the most harm? Might be better to look for the thoughts that causes the most good, that way we are going in the right direction.

Duality demands balance, if a farmer removes a boulder from a field he must fill the hole with good soil. If we extract a negative file from our thoughts replace it with the opposite.

Always send love to fear, it cancels out it’s energy.

The universe conspires to help me, always.

Purposely sending love to yourself and the depression, stops the fight. If we could whip the energy of it by will power, we be the happiest people alive. Love will disarm it. I have come to see my struggles with depression as the pathway I choose to force me search for what I have found. My best efforts are usually enough.

Personified Fears

Morning Meds 10 8 21

During the arduous process of transcending my childhood belief system,

I have come to believe;

That the devil I was taught to fear is just personified fears.

Love and Fear are polar opposites.

Hate is always the off spring of fear

and

compassion is the child of Love.

Fears does more to slow our growth than the devil ever could

and

love is the energy that opens all the doors.

An Overview

We are responsible for our lives.

We imagine and create our experiences through belief and choice.

You can’t be a victim if your life is a choice.

To blame someone else for the condition of your life is your choice to surrender your freewill.

Consciousness, (Creator of All) creates our choices with a wave of it’s hand.

Each of us act as the director at some point and pick the actors we have assembled in our lifetimes.

Assembled, again and again, before our incarnations, in an agreement of behaviors, with our best interests in view.

From mom to dad and good old uncle Bob, who we will try to keep him out of this conversation just like we do our homes, these actors that we have gathered take their places as our new lives begin. Each of them trying to do their best, to help us learn how to spiritually evolve. They provide for us, all the emotional cues, for us to progress on our journey in a roughly planned quest. A quest to experience such a variety of stimulation and good old stress that we finally get so desperate that we begin to search for some kind of rest. That’s how the plan works you see, that’s what I heard.

In the in-between times or even right now, who really knows if time doesn’t exist.

When we are in that spot in nothingness where we are a thought with no physical form.

When we aren’t hooked to anything, we are just drifting along.

All of us blobs of conscious intent, spend our moments planning our future events.

We gather our favorite players, the ones we call family and friends and few that are neither and we make our requests.

Let’s say in the life before, I could never forgive. I choose to sit in my crap and boil and stew till most everyone around me just sort of got up and moved away.

I say, or I think, I’m not sure which,

“Hey, I sure would like to get this forgiveness thing down, will any of y’all give me hand?”

Mary, my mother from two lives back, who was a half brother in the life just past, says,

“Sure, I’ll game for the show, I’ll be your absent father, who makes your life hell. I’ll stay just long enough for you to feel love and then bam, I’ll be gone! You can learn to forgive or if not, we can try it again. I’ve saved up some good karma I’ll trade a little in.

When I have left and leave ya hanging, I can go help George, who by then we be around seven, I’ll help him to have a good basis to believe he is a victim.

I know, I’ll feel guilty and down most my life. I’ll feel shame and others displeasure, but I’m willing to do it out of love so you two can progess. George can met up with Sally, when he’s an adult and she can help him to find some spiritual truths. He can undo some of the things he wants undone and hopefully finish out his life helping others to find ways to see life as fun.”

All of us blobs of conscious intent arrange as much as we can so we can experience everything that everyone else has ever gone through. If we search in our core we can always feel empathy, for any tragedy that happens to anyone may have already happened to you. On the good side or the bad, that tragedy felt by someone else may have at some point in a pryer days been done by you.

We have most likely lived both sides of the coin. We have all been sinners and saints, male and female, gay or straight. Can’t point a finger without putting yourself down. We’ve been the king, we’ve been the clown.

We revolve between this world and the next, from alive to alive and back to alive again.

We are conscious energy, possibly just blobs at our best, our whole purpose of existence is to finally remember we already know how to love everyone at their worst or their best and how to love ourselves unconditionally.

We are eternal, who knows, we may have just run out of other things to do.