Saturday, June 25, 2016


One man's catacomb is another man's beneath the freeway sleeping place for the homeless guy.  Or maybe, it is a black dark place where the light rarely reaches you, and you avoid contact.  I might be there at the moment.  A good friend and comrade in work died, of a terrible disease. For a number of reasons I am feeling nostalgia for my mother, who has passed in 2012.  I miss her with every breath I take.  And I regret that in my depression I took issue with some people and it led to my having enemies.  I don't regret much in life, since life is a learning curve, and we don't come with a learning manual.  But being in the darkness, is not good.

Although the large depression I was in, from 2011 to 2015 is over, I do occasionally fall into the black holes of grief.  It isn't, as those who have no idea sometimes suggest, that I love my darkness.  It isn't, as others suggest, that I enjoy the attention for being depressed.  My mind, spirit, and body just get hit with extra hard unhappy motions, and it is an unpleasant place to be. 

This kanji says, I am told, I am my own demon.
So, since I've entered one, and I know it will be temporary, I thought I'd share with the few and proud readers here what I do when in a place like this, and what brings me to life.

I have two very amazing cats.  I love them dearly, and would not have made it through cancer treatments without them.  I am not suggesting my wife, son or friends and family weren't necessary, just that, after chemo, nothing comforted me like kisses with cat whiskers, purrs and cuddles.  My Katya especially made sure I was loved.  She is my darling.  My cat Sophie is a dear, but she is more about look at me I am pretty than she is about loving or giving affection.  Still, I love her.

I love art by many people, and some great works by Tim White from the UK grace the covers of some books I love to read, those about the Cthulhu Mythos.  I love these books, the design, the contents, the way they were compiled and how they look together.

And I read the absurdist and magnificent Albert Camus.  His works allowed me to escape my feeling of being without purpose.  I'd often fallen into fits of depression when I'd worked myself into exhaustion, for almost no reward, thinking, how can I go on?  And it would wound me, how I'd work myself trying to serve the deity I believe in, and have no reward or feeling of acceptance from those who are similar in belief.  And then I read Albert Camus, and he explained that the world itself is absurd, and that the way in which a moral, bright person fights the absurdity is to create meaning by their life and manner of living.  He was one who questioned the existence of God, but he was not an atheist.  He suggested that the reasonable mind does the best it can, and hopes.  And that is what I do.  I believe, I do my best, and I hope.

I have hope for you, and offer you these closing quotes about eternity.

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