The Stalker

July 20th, 2010

A friend of my daughter’s called it The Fear when she was in high school even though she couldn’t really explain it.  I call it The Dreads. I think Churchill called it The Black Dog. Moods that stalk you, inducing either general universal anxiety (what if the oil spill creates a dead ocean?) that has no answer or a personal sadness that you just can’t shake. I’ve had it lately, despite the latest/greatest antidepressant my doctor can find and a life that is just so incredibly lucky. We give it these names in order to distance  ourselves from it or cut it down to size, but I think it’s the knowledge of our own mortality and the questioning and questing that goes along with it that dogs us.  That dark shadow is anathema to us, because we are busy being the best we can be, getting empowered, waiting for the Universe to grant our dearest wish, buying stuff to fill up the empty rooms of our soul house. It’s such a tightrope we walk — to love the light with all our might and at the same time, acknowledge the dark that waits for us at the end. And I probably cudgel my brain about it way too much–that’s why I love Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s “Recipe for Happiness Khaborovsk or Anyplace.”

One grand boulevard with trees
With one grand cafe in sun
With strong black coffee in very small cups.

One not necessarily very beautiful
Man or woman who loves you.

One fine day.

2 Responses to “The Stalker”

  1. mmmmMMMMMM! Making me thirsty for coffee, but I have to have cream! We are all just passing through and must make the best of it somehow, some way!and I am HOPING for LOVE for everyone!

  2. ellen (bootsie) terry says:

    If it helps, so many people love you–including me. But maybe it doesn’t. But maybe it will later…

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