THINKING ABOUT:
In Anne Lamott’s latest beautiful essay (gifted, no paywall) one line jumped out at me. When a friend considering ending their life asked, “What’s the point of it all?”, the answer was, “Mornings are nice.” Many of us struggle with depression on and off. Two writers I follow,
Everyone in the world is challenged right now. Challenged to keep up, to maintain equilibrium, to handle the seeming onslaught of terrible. @quinncummings on Threads said, “We’re all just one dropped butter knife away from bursting into tears.”
It helps to remember that social media and the Internet are NEW. Humans are not supposed to know everything that’s happening in the world. It’s too much to hold all the atrocities and sadness and joy in one human brain. But we feel like we must. And not only keep track of it but have opinions on it all and to “do the right thing” as if that’s always clear. Sometimes it is clear for an individual, and acting at that point is important if you are able. Sometimes we are bystanders who are paralyzed by indecision and overwhelm, and that’s okay too. Sometimes there’s absolutely nothing we can do except… breathe.
If we can hold onto one beautiful thing, like a fresh bowl of strawberries topped with sunshine yellow lemon curd, maybe we can make the world a slightly better place for one person. And some days, that’s enough. Because, mornings ARE nice.
WATCHING:
We’re savoring the unicorn happy place that is Ted Lasso now that my AppleTV+ subscription has started. (Holy cow, does Juno Temple have range.) I’ve also just begun Bad Sisters, as I will watch ANYTHING with Sharon Horgan in it.
EATING:
Yesterday I made a little parfait with plain Greek yogurt, a spoonful of my friend Mary’s homemade lemon curd, fresh strawberries, and a sprinkle of GrapeNuts. It tasted like the essence of spring.
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When I feel like that, I like to read Emily Dickinson’s “hope is the thing with feathers” poem. Depression ebbs and flows. I remind myself of that, and it helps me to hold on until it eases. The poet Robert Frost knew a thing or two about depression. Check out his “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” poem. There is a kind of comfort in knowing that others have struggled with depression, and survived, and even thrived, including artists and even world leaders - thinking of you, Winston Churchill.
Thank you!