A picture

I frequently check the shelves of the used book section at the Summerlin library. It is amazing what patience and persistence has brought to me as a reward . One of my great finds was a book of Carl Sandburg's poetry. It cost me a dime and has given me some moments of pleasure. As I glanced through it today, I came across one of his more famous poems: Fog. Whether meant to be or not, It paints a metaphorical picture of how I experience cyclothymic-depression. The picture is neither good , bad nor to be judged by me or any other individual-----it simply is.

Fog

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over the harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.




I have lived through many fogs.

You are cordially invited to a party (please read the fine print)

If you received that invitation from me and then at the bottom, in fine print, it said the theme of the party was a pity party with me as the guest of honor would you come? No you would not, because no matter how great the decorations, food or location the baggage attached would turn the dip and champagne into bitter swill.

That is exactly how I feel about gifts that come with baggage. Is a trip with all expenses paid to paradise a gift if you will have to endure dysfunction, awkwardness and be with out those who bring the only meaning in your life?
Is it a gift to sit in a café in France with someone who will only complain about the brie being too dry? No, some times to have a stale crust of bread in peace and meaningful companionship instead of a steak in paradise with strife and ulterior motives is a much better gift. I am sick to death of so called opportunities that come with conditions.

Fine Print: You have just unknowingly been a guest at my pity party. I apologize.

Descending

I guess since my last entry about my belief in hope I am being put to the test as a mild depression seems to be approaching. Since stopping medication for my mood disorder last march--- (A feat I consider, so far, successful as I have not yet been committed and my family seems to be fairly well intact) the way I navigate this territory has taken on a fairly routine rhythm. I make sure to increase gym days…I do more running, take higher doses of certain nutrients, and eat a more restricted diet and lower expectations of energy level as well as other things. Most importantly, I try my best to practice a discipline of crying out to God, a kind of intense (at least more than normal) clinging to Him. I also check all the belief systems of my self talk which becomes very negative, pessimistic and guilt ridden against Jesus himself. It really helps. You can be depressed but you don’t have to believe the lies associated with it.

Oh well, here’s to hope, grace and prayers.

On a less dismal note, my youngest child trying to relieve herself from the boredom of her 2nd grade reader, published by the Amish community, read the story of “Whiskers" the farm’s pet goat in a near perfect imitation of Doug Citizen’s Story Time with Christopher Walken. Today, she will have a comprehension test on the reading. I am curious to see how she does.

The Pianist

Some time ago, Joe blogged a reaction to the film The Pianist. It was funny that at the time he and his tribe were watching it at the big house; I was watching it in my very small one, alone. I was so moved by the movie that night; I told Gregg I had to blog my thoughts on it. But Joe had beaten me to it….and shared similar responses which I had as well.

One thing that he didn’t mention, which for me was the crux of the entire film was the music of Chopin. I felt the music, whether it was intended to be or not, symbolized God. It was the unseen yet palpable entity haunting this film. It was the beauty in the main character’s life that drove him to survive.

Since then, I have had the CD (which I bought over a year ago) playing everyday and have watched the movie three times as well. I think this film is really a film about hope and grace. Hope and grace for me are realities that often can only be appreciated when they are cast against a background of darkness and despair. The scene in the movie that so artfully demonstrates this for me is when Szpilman (Main character) plays Chopin for the German officer among the ruins and insanity of war. The beauty of God in that moment rises up leveling delusions of human superiority or domination over another. The two men are in the presence of something far greater and for one sustained moment, God has broken through in the most unlikely surreal moment. That scene is somewhat of a life picture for me of the meaning of hope and grace.

Since before Christmas, I think God has been trying to teach me about hope in very concrete events,,,,this film being one of them. I guess, along with my praises of this movie, and strong suggestion to watch it for anyone who hasn’t, I want to share that hope and grace are profound realities. As I type that sentence, my flesh says how simplistic and overly optimistic, given the headlines and the aging image I see of late in the mirror staring back at me every morning; But my spirit knows otherwise. And I suppose none of the people reading this have ever endured what the man in this movie did, but like him, we have had and are having our share of darkness and despair, but we must stand on the reality, though we lose our balance so easily that God will, at the right time, enter the moment and allow us to hear the music of his essence sustaining our attention in order that we may know that HE IS and we are able to survive