Yesterday I realized that without noticing it I’d fallen again into a fever. As usual, I’d been this way for days before I knew it. When this happens, my spirit descends into disarray. Bits of reality leak away.
Between sitting up in bed and walking to the chest of draws, I can easily misplace half the nation before I even dress. When I turn out the pockets of the pants I’ve worn the previous day, bits of my history tumble out into the laundry bin. Pieces of awareness slip with the water down the drain of the kitchen sink. I read the news and instantly feel I’ve lost whole segments of the population; epochs of history evaporate.
I also lose closer and more tangible possessions: pleasure in the presence of my children; gratitude for how fortunate I am; connection with what normally gives me joy; even belief that I am…
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