It's like the deep cells in your body and your gut don't know that the year has changed. That there ought to be fresh resolve. If not fresh resolve, then at least a fresh set of angst. But no. It's a continuum. The constriction one felt in the past comes along.
Sometimes I marvel at this stubbornness of ache. There's a line in Ernest Hemingway's, 'Old Man and the Sea'. It's a favorite line of mine. When the old man is trying to reel in the fish but the fish won't give in. The old man ceases his struggle for a bit and admires the fish's tenacity. He is taken in with the strange nobility of the fish. The line goes, "There was no panic in his fight."
That's a gorgeous sentiment.
Anyway, that's what I am thinking about the faint soupbof anxiety, dread and ennui I have been feeling since a few months now.
Well, a worthy adversary is still something to be thankful for.
Comments