Sipping my glass of beer and tomato juice, I ponder. Every once in a while I wake up in the morning with a too familiar rock on my chest: that old demon, Depression. I can usually tell he is taking over my day as soon as awareness slips into my dreams...you know, that time in between when you hear a noise in the real world and right before you open your eyes after a night of the drifting nothingness we call "sleep." Depression seems to be a family trait, a curse, a genetic cord that silently binds my sisters and brother to me. It hasn't become deadly yet, mostly a time-stopping annoyance, but I can see repercussions of nurturing it and wallowing in it a tad bit too long. I'm pretty sure that depression slinks and slides into everybody's heart now and then, but also pretty sure that its effect is planted more deeply in some due to the more fertile soil of their souls. I might be wrong, but I believe our "gift" of creativity may, indeed, be an indication of fertility in which depression can root.
I'm really enjoying my beer and tomato juice right now...it helps me wallow, in a mellow way. It makes me feel even very clever with my words, and "special" in a way that only someone with alcoholic tendencies should feel. Contemplating alcohol should probably be a red flag, if indeed, I am in bondage to spirits of grain, but it happens so rarely to me that I must immerse myself into it's magic. I know that the solid ground of morning will certainly manifest itself into a headache and remorse. But for now, I will just let myself feel it's power, misguided though it may be.
Tonight is Halloween...the most ghostly and pagan night of creation...Very Irish of us to celebrate, as if the deep roots of ancient times cannot touch us in our sterile, and modern lives. We dress our babies in costumes and encourage our young ones to seek candies from our neighbors, without thought to our old and deep roots to the magic that binds us to earth and history and an otherworld existence more real than the day. We play with the fright and the fear of another dimension, another time...play with it as if it were yet another toy made of plastic or make-believe. It is good that it comes only once a year. It might be just my imagination, but it seems as if more "to-do" is made of this holiday more nowadays than in earlier days ... I think it might have something to do with many more things to sell in stores and wild creations to market than any actual consideration of it's meaning. The same with Christmas, I believe. Marketing holidays seems to be a lucrative operation. It is funny that I am so easily lumping Christmas and Halloween together. A very odd combination of spiritual economics. It all seems to boil down to God and the devil. Why is that?