Breathe Deeply

I awoke with a bad case of the heebie-jeebies this morning, and it hasn't diminished (much) since I came into work (here earlier than usual). I don't like to label my mental and emotional states with such words as "depression" or "euphoria" because I feel like putting them in those boxes may inhibit my ability to rise above them.

Anyway, headlines about the Supreme Court's overturning handgun control, about a horrendous traffic accident, about the cutting of California's funds for crucial children's service, about more fatal attacks in Iraq all sent my already whiny self into a bit of a spin. Sometimes I feel that the wonder isn't that the rate of antidepressant use has rocketed into the stratosphere but that it hasn't gone any higher than than it has.

There. I feel much better already. Amazing how just venting (whining) a bit can dissipate some of the vapors that swirl around in the attic. My intent in starting this post was to remind myself that despite the bad air quality on Wednesday (wildfires! disaster!), I did have a great early morning run. I went east, up into the Berkeley foothills and along the Arlington, then made my way back downhill to the BART path (Ohlone Greenway) and home--about 6.5 miles total. On the way I went through the King Middle School garden (represented here in fabulous phone-camera photos) and was able to feel positive about the future materialization of intelligent children, salubrious nutrition, blossoming peace--all those good Berkeley things. The garden, which was started and is overseen by Berkeley food godess Alice Waters, is a remarkable and magical plot of land, not least because it is wide open and doesn't seem to get vandalized or trashed although it is in a area that's not immune to graffiti tagging and window breaking.

It was a satisfying run, partly because it included a number of significant hills, which I was able to chug right up with a minimum of pain.

One nice aspect of my running (and even of my life itself if I can stop to remember it) is that at age 61 I'm no longer burdened by unrealistic expectations. This is a positive thing! Now I don't need to say "maybe it will turn out such-and-such a way"--this is how it has turned out. And it's good. Of course, this moment of my life and of everyone's life is always "how it's turned out," but it is difficult for me to consistently carry any sense of that along through the ups and downs of the everyday.

I've now been at work for about three and a half hours. The soothing rhythm of the quotidian has imposed itself, and the more hysterical side of my nature seems to have gone indoors for a nap. And I did bring my running duds, so later I'll go do a bit of the old left-right along the Embarcadero. How dare I keep forgetting how blessed I am!