So, I really haven't been on Depression Tribe lately. I really couldn't say if that's a good thing or a bad thing… I guess all I can only say that it is what it is.

So, this Winter has been especially strange for me. Back home, I was inclined to believe that 35 degrees was cold. How very wrong I was. I don't leave the house much, as I'm sure I've mentioned earlier.

 The two main reasons for that are:
1) I don't drive
2) It's too damn cold!

Lord Winter was being particularly charitable this week, though. It actually got above 30 degrees at some point, so I pulled on a jacket and went on a little walk around the neighborhood. A short walk away from here there's this lovely cemetery that I've been eyeing ever since I first visited. (About a year ago, actually.)

I spent a good hour walking around, looking at all of the truly stunning gravestones before it got too cold and I had to head back home.

Some people think that it's a bit morbid, or even disrespectful to so enjoy a cemetery. I personally don't think so.

When I was a kid, death so terrified me that I couldn't bear to even LOOK at a grave. (Actually, the fear at it's deepest wasn't actually of death, but rather of infinity… but that's another blog for another day.) But… I knew I couldn't live out my life so fearing the death. Even when I was young I realized how futile it is to fear the inevitable. I had to face my fear.

The thing I came to appreciate about death and how we tend to handle it… is the fact that in general, our rituals all seem to carry that same sense of awe. Death is uncharted territory. It's almost like an exclusive club. You don't get to KNOW what happens until you actually kick the bucket.

This mystery… this unknowable force that will claim us all… it almost DEMANDS ritual.

Death makes even the cruelest man a saint. I've never been to funeral that didn't sing the praises of the departed… no matter WHAT course their life took.

That's what fascinates me. People are complex by nature… we're mostly comprised of mundane things. Fuzzy, unimportant details. Considering the time we have in this life, most of us do surprising little with it. I don't think it's a bad thing, but… it makes our personality muddy. Blurry. When we die, the tiny details like how often we clip our tonails or how much television we watch in a given day, or what books we thought were too pretentious… those details fade away. In the grand scheme, they're unimportant. Our personalities get boiled down into the essence of what we are. Our most notable features are exaggerated and the superfluous details cut away. We become charicatures of our former selves.

It makes every gravestone, every chiseled letter, every doe-eyed Virgin Mary, every ornately-carved cross even more poetic. Beautiful. They, in effect, become the departed. Why else would it be so incredibly wrong to vandalize a gravestone? To even STEP on one?

When you think about it, it's really just a hunk of rock. But it takes on such meaning. The vessel for that charicature of the departed.

It really intrigues me. I've always had an interest in totems and statues and such. My always over-enthusiastic imagination quickly adheres itself to the concept of an object containing a personality, or some sort of life. I don't truly believe it, but it's fun to pretend. šŸ™‚ It's this concept that really draws me to cemeteries… that helps me appreciate death for the almost mystical mystery it presents.

So yes. My visit to the cemetery was long-overdue…. and so very worth it. I'm certain I'll visit it again.

The weather's cooling down again, though. I may have to wait a few weeks before I can visit again.

But at least I held good on the promise I made myself.

I've pretty much made a goal for myself that I've promised to keep.

I need to leave the house at least twice a week. For now, that could mean anything. I already leave the house once every week to go see my therepist… beyond that, if I go to the store with Matthew or if I come along with him while he meets with one of his classmates or something… Anything, really. But I must leave at least twice.

I think it's a good start for now. It'll be a little more strict once I make a regular go of it.

The second part of my goal is one to help inspire me to be more active… to help pull me out of my slump.

I have to make something every day. It could be cookies, it could be a drawing, a poem, a story, a tin-foil sculpture, or a letter, or a snow angel, or a clean room. šŸ™‚ Anything at all. Once a day.

Hopefully these things will help pull me out of whatever slump I've been in.

Anyway, I think I've rambled on for long enough. I'm going to try and see if Mike is online. I miss that kid.


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