Likely, I should be reading instead of writing, distracting myself instead of digging in. But the darkness is worrisome. It has the urgency of a splinter. It begs to be picked out, gotten rid of. But it's not a splinter and can't be plucked out with tweezers. It's more like a sore tooth on a weekend. You know you have to wait for the dental appointment, but you can't leave it alone. You keep touching it with your tongue. Owww.
So, yes, I keep dwelling on it, thinking about it, hoping I'll see something I missed, some clue to a fix that circumnavigates the truth of chemistry and psysiology. Some magic mantra, trick of the mind, new insight.
I tell myself that This Will Pass. and Things Will Get Better
I believe this, on a certain level, but it's not the one I'm operating on at the moment. I say the phrases over and over to myself until they become symbols (like 'billion" and "trillion") for concepts that I recognize but can't truly grasp. They are reduced to abstractions and I can't remember feeling good any better than I can imagine a billion.
Is this whining? Admittedly, maybe. The future me who is back in the studio and working won't have much patience with this crap. Perhaps you don't either, and I don't blame you one bit.
Still, I promised to share the good the bad and the ugly---it says so right there on the heading of the journal. I believe it's what you came here for.
I made a wooden sword for Orion, but he was so impatient for it he wouldn't wait for me to paint it. When all else fails, we go back to the toys. Making the toys. Perhaps, deep down, I'm really an elf. That would explain a couple of things.
Here is the painting I was working on in the post last week with Orion. He is not finished with his painting yet, he tells me.