WINTER’S GRIP ON DEPRESSION

© 2010 Howard McQueenIt is a blustery Sunday morning,white caps forming on the Intracoastal.Pelicans vigorously pumping their wingsseeking to gain ground,flying into a rawnor’eastern wind.Deep blue outdoor umbrellas tightly wrapped,the water, a dullish grey-green castreflected off of a hazy, mostly cloudy,weakly brushed sky.Cold surfaces: glass windows, tiled floors;radiating a cold that seldom penetratesthis far down into Palm Beach Shores.Flags briskly flapping off the riggings ofocean-ready fishing yachts,not an empty slip available.Sea gulls seemingly the only life relatively unaffectedby this rare and unexpected frigid arctic spa.Winter can work its way into our bones,especially when hope is not fully resident.Depression is a guest that by-passes check-in,settling in to nest.We feel depression’s constricting qualitiesmanifest through all our dimensions of being.It is a holistically disempowering state,the warmth of our own heartseeming leaking away and erodinglike the unseen rip-tide,relentlessly carrying awayour sacred beach front shore..Crackling fireplaces,host jacuzzi spa baths,essences oflavender,peppermint andeucalyptus.Snuggling up in bed witha radiant heating blanketa heart-warming moviedeep penetrating resta slow, deep tissue massage,lots of fresh cut, fragrant flowers.All these are tonics to stimulateand relax depressions grip,this chilling banishment from self,this sensing our heartso distant, so remote.The heat pump in the summery bungalow house I am residing in on Palm Beach Shoresis holding the inside temperature at 59 degrees, it was 34 outside. The morning sun is just beginning to stream in, so my housemate and I are huddled in the sunshine, sipping our morning beverages. Tomorrow afternoon I shift locations to St. Thomas for, presumably, warmer weather ;-) .
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