funkytown

It’s a grey morning with rain/snow in the sky. It’s April but it feels like January. You know those days of deep winter when it feels as though it will forever be grey and gloomy. But it’s ok. It suits me today.

I do believe I’m in a funk. I used to be funky (and I don’t mean strangely cool) quite a bit. I changed my attitude, however, a few years ago and spunky may be more applicable to my personality lately. (Although spunky is a stoopid word.) Something about growing into my 5th decade made me realize that waking up every morning was a good thing. A blessing, really. And perhaps it would be a good idea to celebrate that, rather than bemoan it.

But, not being perfect and not living in a perfect world, every once in awhile I take a tumble from the spunky wagon. Sometimes I like waking up and sitting in bed with the ceiling fan softly whirring, making me cold ~ which suits me right now, too. Furball the cat curled up at the foot of the bed giving me attitude. It’s ok. I totally understand. My journal beside me unopened and unwritten. “The Energy Bus” by Jon Gordon lying next to that, unopened as well. I don’t have the energy to have an infusion of positiveness right now. I’m hungry (having not eaten properly yesterday), but don’t want to eat this early before my morning hike (the reward for exercise always being a decent breakfast upon return). In fact, I don’t feel like a hike this morning. That would require getting out of bed.

I guess in light of the emotional and traumatic month we’ve been thru it’s not surprising to find Ms. Moody crawling under my skin and setting up household for awhile. Just hope it’s not long. January and February found me in an unusually creative and productive frame of mind. I was shocked. Those are the greyest of grey months. But then it was as if March blew in and set about putting me in my proper winter space. How dare I be so arrogant to think I could escape the winter greys?! Relationships are strained; life as we know it is changing; priorities realigned; every day holds some kind of a question mark...

So I’ll wear this cloak of belated bad temper for just a bit. But not too long. As Stella did, I need to get my groove back. My positive, happy, love-of-life groove. Because without it creativity stops. And my smile stops. And joy stops. And life's energy stops. And without that, breathing stops.

And I’ve grown rather fond of breathing…