Seeing the sun again.

I wonder. If I’m lapsing into depression. Oh, not full-scale depression. But something less than my usual upbeat self. For one thing. I’m sleeping longer. Staying in bed. Instead of rising and shining. Maybe I’m living in a rut. Less emotionally energetic than usual. Maybe it’s a subtle thing. A malaise. Physical. Mental. Emotional. Perhaps the fact that I’m writing about it. Now. Is a good sign.  Here. At 9:40 in the morning. And my idea. Is to go outdoors. Soon. And walk and walk and walk. To rev myself up. Maybe I’ll read a book, too. To rev up my mind. To divert myself. Into a fictional and imaginative world. Yes, another good sign. To stay occupied. Mindfully. Physically. I must take positive actions.  Maybe it’s that I’m getting older. Running out of time. Thoughts of dying. Of being no more. Of living in a world. That seems to be in decline.  And I’m allowing myself to be pulled down. Into what seems a collapsing world. But hey. Here I am. In my own little corner. My niche. Where the sun still shines.  At this very moment. Sunlight. Glistening off my wood deck.  I see the sun. The light.  It permeates. And obliterates the darkness. --Jim Broede