Is it me or is this week a bit odd and even surreal so far? Maybe it’s the Moon or the gloomy clouds and rain of the last couple days, or maybe I can blame tax day. Tax day always manages to put me into a vortex of poopiness. Whatever it is, I want it to go away now please. Not only have I been a bit blue and devoid of inspiration, I have been seeing ghosts. Nasty, grumpy and unwelcome ghosts. I’m not talking about the ethereal howlers that inhabit Scottish castles or French cemeteries, or the ones that waft around the moors calling ‘Catherine!’ – I’m talking about those faces and names, sometimes objects, that pop up to remind you of painful things in your past, painful things about your history: things you thought you put behind you tidily and permanently. Emotionally upsetting ghosts that come with no warning signal and always manage to pull me into a royal funk, not the good psychedelic disco platform-shoe afro rollerskate kind of ‘funk’ either.
For example, I have been straightening up in my yoga/art studio so that I have room to do said yoga and art. Out from a box of paper images that I keep for inspiration, popped an old photograph of my father when he was a child. How in the hell did that get there?! The photo is large and just a head, so here are two large eyes, looking very much like my own, staring back at me in youthful accusation. Unprepared for the flood of emotions that came rushing into me, I’ve been unstable on the inside ever since. Angry even. My urge was to tear it up into a million tiny spiteful little shreds, but some nincompoop had it laminated. I had to suffice with tossing into the trash can with melodramatic exuberance. The trash can was overfull so the photo kind of popped back out onto the floor and I didn’t even get my dramatic payoff out of that little hissy-fit. Oh well.
Perhaps everyone has those moments in life when some random event reminds you of the you you once were, the people who came in and went out of your life in a blaze of glory and trauma, the mistakes you made and the things you did that hurt people and all those shitty things that people have done to hurt you. It’s all one big lump of bullshit and we are all guilty of playing both sides of the net. You can’t run away from it and you apparently can’t put it behind you because it follows you around for the rest of your life like stink or a rabid zombie that you can’t seem to outrun even though it’s moving slowly and is missing a foot.
Maybe we shouldn’t try to outrun it. What if it’s there to be useful in some way, a reminder of what to avoid, warning signs held up high by our past selves: “JUST WALK THE OTHER WAY” – What if I put that photo in the box of inspiration for a reason unknown to even myself? Can I somehow squeeze something positive out of all this anguish and inner torment instead of just stewing in it?
Yes, yes I can. From this day forward, Tuesdays will officially be a day for posting anything that inspires me. Photo, poem, colors, far away places, shoes or flowers…whatever keeps the ghosts at bay for another week. When you think about it, Tuesday is an ‘off’ day anyways. It doesn’t have the forward motion of Monday, the optimism of Wednesday, the toil of Thursdays, or the exuberance of Friday. It lacks the stability of Saturday or the authority of Sunday. Tuesday’s got nothin! Well now, ghosts or no ghosts, it has a Muse and I feel better already. See you next Tuesday, if not before, without the vortex of poopiness.