Archive for Depression

CSL Files 217, [2.03] After thought

Posted in Cabo San Lucas, Celebrations, Depression, Grief, Living, Lulu Island, Music, OCD, Pain, Richmond, The Path with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on February 14, 2010 by Erikakw

“They say the Irish are head strong. But I prefer to say heart strong. I’ve never been to Ireland but my name, Maude-Regan is pure Irish! I figure that is why I always have little ditties playing in my head that I want to rhyme together into lyrics because I can hear music playing buried deep inside from ancestors past. I think there is physical genetic rendering, music is in the Irish”

My after thought is: music and love go together they are of the same substance. That’s why people fall in deeper love when they remember a song connected to a particular memory of meeting a special someone. You may fall in love with a person, fall in love with your work, or the geography and culture of where you live.

In studying physics I have come to understand the most important thing is to embrace contradiction and chaos. Since we would rather move away from c & c like a magnet in the opposite direction the interesting thing is, if we pay close attention—we are drawn back to the thing we are moving away from.

“Know that I’m not talking about erotic, romantic love but the substance, the matter in you and me that keeps us living and taking breaths everyday that drives you like an olympic athlete to the gold

When I came home from Cabo San Lucas I began to notice fear and anxiety loosening its hold on me. I accepted my perceived failures with new found delight and recycled all the past with the present to make something new

I guess that’s what love can do turn things old to new”

‘D’

Posted in Chronos, Steveston, Story, The Desert with tags , , , , , , , , on October 12, 2009 by Erikakw
I am on a raft in the middle of a large ocean. There is no wind, days are hot and I am parched, days are damp and I am shivering. There is no fresh water only salt water. I have little supplies, I am anxious, sea sick from the constant movement. I see no defining shapes I float on a too small raft. Lurking about me are ocean creatures I am not familiar with. I am not sure what to make of them so I keep watching the horizon to see if I can spot some land. Still I see nothing and I have no sense of direction—I’ve lost my compass, perhaps it is in the bottom of the ocean instead of in my hand. I hold onto the raft, I struggle to hold onto myself.
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