mornings 10/31/17

You are here.
You are still alive.

This is my mantra.  The shit and depression have been back this week.  It's totally physical in nature.  And the unsettling chemical awareness that I cannot trust my thoughts, my mouth, or my actions. I am impulsive, negative, nasty, and mean unless I try really hard not to be. But now that I teetotal like a motherfucker, I paid close attention to what was going on, I named it, I reached out to colleagues and family, I listened to the voice of God, I followed the serendipitous path outside myself and found connections to the world that are bringing me back to center.  Because it is my responsibility.  Me. I am my number one job.  And I joke about being an adult and not having any fun and life is lame and that is depressing me, but that is because I am depressed.  When I am not depressed, I find that almost every act has an element of joy.  It's when I am complaining too much that I feel weighted down by the misery.

So I lifted some heavy things, I went out for a walk and a run two days now in a row, I woke up this morning for energizing yoga.  I was reminded that setting my intention is a good way to control my moods instead of them controlling me like a goddam puppet on a string.  I want to be here.  Really here for my kids.  My dad and Lindsey and Ed and Donnie and so many other addicted, sick, depressed people that I have loved in my life couldn't seem to do this, so they threw their lives away.  Our hearts beat 4,000 times per hour?  That's a fucking miracle. 

I'm feeling uninspired in my teaching because I haven't been writing.  I can't model inspiration if I am not practicing it.  This poem that I found by Rudy Francisco is perfect and totally imitable.  The Barry Lane lead of quoting interesting facts.  Playing with metaphor and sensory language. Writing on a theme.  There are a lot of interesting things we could do with this.  Life is brilliant. Today is Halloween and I get to watch my little people have fun.  Even Eddie, who is growing up and slowly pulling away, is still my little guy and would rather be with us than in some unfamiliar situation with new middle school friends.  This is so comforting.  He doesn't want to run away and be anywhere but home like I was beginning to feel at his age.  I am doing an amazing job.  God listens to my heartbeat on his iPod.  So many great lines from these slam poets.  I want to post their brilliance all around the room and be constantly reminded that there is beauty and hope and magic and miracles everywhere fucking where.  And they are us and we are them.