Woke up this morning with a moderate, and fairly commonplace, sense of dread. It crops up whenever stress has been high or my energy has been depleted. Which is most of the time. It boils down to simple social interaction triggering me. Things most people consider non-issues will send me into a tizzy, which then later lends itself to panic. While I have a better handle on it now than I did years ago, it still resurfaces in big chunks if I don’t address it daily.
Living in an upscale hippie town, I come across lots of appropriated spirituality and quick, expensive fixes to all that ails. I’ve bounced around these ideas and found some solace, but more frustration than anything. This town has an unfortunate “Eat, Pray, Love” mentality. If you can throw money at it, then it will go away. Truthfully, the cost of things doesn’t bother me. It’s the “spending money on one thing to try and ignore the whole thing” that drives me nuts.
That being said, I do keep an altar in the house now. It’s a tiny thing. Some candles, incense, statues, and vessels. There’s a picture of my uncle George who passed in September 2010. We live in his house now, maintaining it for my family. An altar is, sometimes, a physical manifestation of all the half-hearted spirituality I come encounter; it is also something I can turn to when needed. Mr. Mossypants, or C, finds his peace outdoors. I enjoy ritual. I enjoy having a place in my home that represents the things I need and hold dear. I need a place that isn’t going to immediately judge me when I access it.
Maybe it’s a quick fix. Maybe the dread this morning came from all the wheat and sugar I’ve been eating. Maybe winter is a hard season for everyone.
Maybe we can only manage to enact the minor things until the larger things can be dealt with.