I read that the Irish phrase for "I am sad" differs from the way I grew up.
"Ta bron orm" means "sadness is on me". That puts a thin barrier between me and the emotion, so that I can easily slip it off like a mask.
My aunt Louise used to offer guided meditations in which she soothed
me.
"I have feelings, yet I am not my feelings."
One of my vulnerabilities is being duped by the illusion that this moment is cinched. Failure, loneliness, even success are experiences that flit between us like a Greek nymph. They have never been known for endurance.
The line in Kipling's epic poem If has long reminded me of these transitions.
"If you can meet with
Triumph and Disaster and treat these two imposters just the same..."
Yet it seems real. At least as tangible as the clothes I am wearing on this warm September day. But it is within my power to shed this shirt, and these sentiments. Sometimes I need help finding the zipper on the back.
The routine of heading to the gym with Benjamin has been a mood shifter. For him and for me, the repetitive thrum of our legs leaves our moods
behind, even though we are bolted to the floor.
