Still in a funk much of the time, having little patience, and needing to have a good cry. Confided in a friend about it and that helped. It helped more that he appreciated me being there for an event I otherwise wouldn’t have gone to but to honor him. Sometime during all this I had a revelation of what I actually did want to do Masonically, and called another friend to discuss. Talked it out with my Wife the next day, and she said what I do best is just being a Brother — a person there for people and not in charge of anything or with any particular formal responsibilities.
I had good dreams that night, and in some abstract way found a path to healing on that subject. I also dreamt I was able to hover in a strong winter wind like a seagull and was eager to blog about it here. Of course, I woke up, but I have lately considered the notion that I really might fly if I love the sky more than I fear hitting the ground. I’ve always felt I should be a little above, catching the wind in every way, yet have a fear of falling. Even the weightlessness of a fast elevator, or a dip on a plane, or a car hitting a crest, makes me grip something. I guess I don’t want to be weightless so much as defy gravity.
The nicest thing these last few days was Merry taking me to a park, mostly to sit. I needed to be out in such good weather, but even more, I needed the sky. It was an amazing blue sky, but obscured by so many trees. I love trees, mind you, but I grew up with much space between houses and only small, new trees. Sometimes I just need the openness of it all. There was a patch where I could see so much more of that beautiful blue, and feel the sun on my face (side effects of doxycycline be damned). The only cloud in that sky was Merry catching her breath. Another heart scare that didn’t end up as anything too serious, but then all such things are serious enough.
But I really needed those few minutes in the park, especially since I’ve had little luck having campfires in the backyard this year. It’s also too hot, too wet, or there’s no one to join me. The amount of scrap wood in the basement for this purpose seems to taunt me. Just one more nice day would take the edge off — or I’ll give most of the wood away. It seems like a silly thing, but everything seems to be a plate I need to keep spinning, and I almost want them all to crash just to stop and breathe.
Speaking of which, I’m going to hug Hazel now — I just saw a video short that described cuddling with your dog as self-medication. I feel that.
