I like grey skies and rainy days. Make no mistake, in the spring, summer and autumn, I love sunshine. But I still like those grey days. Something about them calms me, makes me feel safer, makes me feel cloaked and comfortable.
I love those days when I’m driving. I think it might be the sensation of the closeness of the sky and horizons.
I’m also more comfortable when I’m inside a house on days like that, or sheltered under a veranda or porch roof.
I’m a Hyperactive Person. My hyperactivity has been turned inward for the most part. I manage to stay out of trees and off of roofs … most of the time. I am 54 years old after all. I really should try to stay on the ground more, right?
But my toe still bobs, my fingers snap, my pen tip taps on the table top. I’m always humming or thrumming and I whistle or sing. If I’m not making noise out loud, there’s a song playing in my head.
I know I said I’d try to cheer up, I didn’t lie. I’ve been much more cheerful. And those regrets I listed in my post titled Get Me Through December: A Symbolic New Beginning, I’ve let them go, to some extent. But it’s the holidays. And no adult makes it through the holidays without thoughts of loved ones who have passed away, or of childhood lost. I don’t think it can be done.
My regret of not having children weighs heavily on me at this time of year. Perhaps it’s a reasonable thing to think that I might have revisited my childhood as an observer if I’d had children, I don’t know. I know that I miss my own childhood at Christmas.
And I miss my mother. She made my Christmases what they were, not overly sensational, and yet very special. One of the things I miss about Christmases in her presence was her own joy at the season. Her happiness was enough to make me happy as a child. She taught me that lesson of sharing joy.
ADHD enjoys a certain mystery among those who choose not understand it. If those people believe at all that it exists, they can’t see what goes on inside our heads. And it seems that they’d rather not know. They therefore think it’s all distractions and random associations.
And, truly, there is a lot of that, I have to admit, but we are so much more than that. We are complex, much more than just collectors of unfinished projects, pilers of things, missers of appointments. We are the ones who see the things that others can’t in the places others aren’t drawn to look. We are the ones who feel a tree’s strength and softness at the same time, the ones who hear the river laughing at the rocks it tumbles over. We are the ones who feel a kindred love for small birds who dash around from twig to terrace and cannot sit still for more than a few seconds.
It’s Friday. Two Fridays ago I kinda went on a rant. Last week was Black Friday so we had to pay some attention to that. This week I’m heading in a different direction. Today I want to talk about meditation. I may get in trouble for this, but I’m gonna suggest you go to church.
Okay, you got me, I’m not exactly a church going kind of guy. In fact, my beliefs are not really in line with churches as we know them. But I want to tell you about my recent experiences.