I have spent the morning trying to engage with the trees opposite in an attempt to lift the mood. An encroaching blackness threatens, and a roam with the dogs listening to the birds seemed the most likely candidate to help. Hesse speaks volumes to me, and his reflections on trees perfectly encapsulate my feelings about them. Wondrous entities offer solace, peace , mystery, who wouldn’t be moved by the serenity of trees?
Herman Hesse wrote too about the mind set that is my companion through life, a propensity for melancholia and self annihilation He wrote best about it to my mind, in Steppenwolf, in which his protagonist reveals the reality about the ‘suicides.’ These are people not necessarily prepared to commit the physical act, but those with a psychological bent of mind that sees no difference between the states of being and non-being, and therefore search for meaning while in a state of being. The futility of life is a constant melody that plays throughout the mortal existence. I wrote a more thorough piece about Steppenwolf here,
This seems to be a post about depression, but it isn’t. It is about realism, about being able to accept the flow of mood, and to live within that flow . It’s about my learning how to handle that river of human beingness without being overwhelmed by my natural propensity to depression. It’s about living well, and not just surviving.
Trees have helped to show me how.
Have a weekend of good things, go find them, whatever they are for you.