A Pelican Perhaps?

“It is not humiliating to be unhappy. Physical suffering is sometimes humiliating, but the suffering of being cannot be, it is life. … What you must do now is nothing more than live like everybody else. You deserve, by what you are, a happiness, a fullness that few people know. Yet today this fullness is not dead, it is a part of life and, to its credit, it reigns over you whether you want it to or not.” - - Albert Camus.

There was an Asian woman on the BART train this morning twirling her rosary beads and praying out loud. What you see everyday in urban areas is something you don't see everyday. This was an example. I couldn't hear her because I had my iPod on so that I could drown out the same big fella sitting near me who was snoring, same as yesterday. Also on the same car was the older gentleman I referenced in a previous posts who sits in the same spot reading the bible with his lips moving the whole time. He gets off a stop before me. Always wears sandals. I've never owned a pair of sandals in my life. Not my thing. Don't need to show people so much of my socks or bare feet plus I'd just feel like an idiot wearing them. Not that I think you or anyone else looks like an idiot with sandals on. Although I will say that one of the things I dislike about warmer weather is the sight of old guys wearing sandals. Seriously we don't need to see your bunions. Cover them puppies up.

I have always been prone to dark moods but especially lately and I'm okay with that. Okay so there’s the depression the deep sighs the sense of doom and sorrow and eternal pain and loss and creeping crawling horror but its a sure sign I’m alive. Sometimes after a panic attack when I used to have real doozies I’d feel oddly comforted because I’d been offered the surety that I was a living breathing human being participating in this mad whirl. It’s the opposite of how I’ve felt at times after staring for too long at the TV or even the computer. There are medications I’ve taken that do that too. They strip away what causes the panic but take too much of the natural flowing juices that make up our humanity. There is an intellectual numbness to it. To live like -- that heavily medicated -- is not living at all. Well its being alive but only just. The whole point of this exercise is to feel to be present. Sleep is a good and necessary escape that allows batteries to recharge but a walking sleep like many people live in is limbo. Empty. Dead inside with a pulse.

So the miseries have the benefit of affirming that life is present and also helps make that the good times all the better. I spend the vast majority of my waking hours being very happy. I am especially grateful for this because I know intimately what its like to be miserable. Panicked or hungover or grasping for reality or frightened or lonely. I was frequently frightened of my mother and her insanity and sometimes frightened of myself. You really want to try to go through life feeling good about mother and about your own self. Trust me.

My workday went about as expected which is to say fulfilling and enjoyable. It included such mundane tasks as photocopying and filling out a form or two but it also featured me instructing in the English language and providing chuckles and insights along the way. I’m a terribly shy person away from work but on the job I’m a whirling dervish of one liners wisecracks tall tales and erudite instruction. I’m an entertainer and educator mash up. An edutainer if you will. (You will, won’t you?)

I’m at home again awake and present for a few hours for whatever comes along then to sleep then back at it and goodness knows what or who I’ll see on BART tomorrow.  A pelican perhaps?