Like a ten year old I am looking for the icky nasty whatever to blame and lash out at.
Seriously, I almost feel like laughing. This must come to an end. If only I wouldn't be so mad about it.
Spring is exploding around us and the garden is in top shape thanks to none of my personal efforts. Although I did move the lawn mower around for a while yesterday while R pointed out all the bits I missed. There is fresh asparagus waiting to be cooked, rhubarb ready to be picked for a crumble, the pear trees in full flower and so on.
My physio program is showing excellent results, I feel like Michelle Obama when I stretch my upper arms. Alas, the right leg remains a stubborn and pretty useless piece of unresponsiveness.
Tomorrow, my boss wants a telephone conference and I have been rehearsing one hundred ways to tell him that my health is none of his business. But I will probably cave in and let him walk all over me as usual.
It doesn't matter, really.
This here is the current president of Ireland, Michael D Higgins. He is just a nice guy, a published poet as well. His role is basically ceremonial and representative, his political influence is marginal, a bit like royalty. Here, we see him at a funeral, consoling the son of a Coast Guard pilot who died when a rescue helicopter crashed two weeks ago during poor weather conditions.
I wish every country had a president like him. Anyway, this picture makes me feel less angry.
9 comments:
Thank you for writing these things down. Anger expressed in this way is transformed. Thank for the gift of that photo.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PrEPm04v9Mk
And fresh asparagus and robins and frogs singing in the darkness.
A president with compassion. What a concept.
That photo makes me feel less angry too. Thank you for posting it. I will try to remember that when my mind wanders off to other presidents who don't look anything like that. I hope your call with your boss goes well.
I struggle with anger as well -- in fact, I think women in particular struggle with anger, and I am beginning to believe that it's not always a "bad" thing or something to judge. Obviously, if it's eating you alive, it's not "good" -- but it can be a healthy catalyst as well, and I believe that women have been oppressed or made to feel that it's unhealthy to be angry. The more we fight anger itself, the more it persists. I think art and talking and writing is a good place to express it --
Chocolate figures in too many paradisaical speculations. For me chocolate is childish and unsubtle, an indulgence deservedly punished by a widening girth. Sweets for the sweet is one of WS's more grievous errors.
But asparagus! There's subtlety. A green emblematic of life itself. And not a trace of metal foil. Melted butter is sufficient accompaniment but hollandaise adds a sense of privilege. Always use your fingers - that way you're closer to to the magic.
To have your own source. Bliss!
It is hard not to be angry in the midst of these crazy times. Anger has been wearing on me as of late, too. I find myself trolling trolls on FB to blow off steam, ha! As long as they are going to be out there, might as well use them for our own benefit. But you have the added annoyance of health issues. Hopefully spring flowers (and bike rides) will lighten our moods a bit.
How could you not be angry? How could ANY of us not be angry? The only thing that contains my anger is sheer fatigue and a sense that there's nothing I can do about anything. I can only try to fix what I can. I hope the call with the boss went OK (it's probably over by now...?).
Glad about your arms and garden and president. Sad about your leg and my president. Life, eh?
I've been hunkered down a while, not reading anything but the twit-feed and Jasper Fforde. Thinking about you, though.
I'm with Robbie on the Spargel! And with Zhoen on thinking about you.
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