WINTER’S GRIP ON DEPRESSION

© 2010 Howard McQueen

It is a blustery Sunday morning,
white caps forming on the Intracoastal.
Pelicans vigorously pumping their wings
seeking to gain ground,
flying into a raw
nor’eastern wind.

Deep blue outdoor umbrellas tightly wrapped,
the water, a dullish grey-green cast
reflected off of a hazy, mostly cloudy,
weakly brushed sky.

Cold surfaces: glass windows, tiled floors;
radiating a cold that seldom penetrates
this far down into Palm Beach Shores.

Flags briskly flapping off the riggings of
ocean-ready fishing yachts,
not an empty slip available.
Sea gulls seemingly the only life relatively unaffected
by this rare and unexpected frigid arctic spa.

Winter can work its way into our bones,
especially when hope is not fully resident.
Depression is a guest that by-passes check-in,
settling in to nest.
We feel depression’s constricting qualities
manifest through all our dimensions of being.
It is a holistically disempowering state,
the warmth of our own heart
seeming leaking away and eroding
like the unseen rip-tide,
relentlessly carrying away
our sacred beach front shore..

Crackling fireplaces,
host jacuzzi spa baths,
essences of
lavender,
peppermint and
eucalyptus.
Snuggling up in bed with
a radiant heating blanket
a heart-warming movie
deep penetrating rest
a slow, deep tissue massage,
lots of fresh cut, fragrant flowers.

All these are tonics to stimulate
and relax depressions grip,
this chilling banishment from self,
this sensing our heart
so distant, so remote.

The heat pump in the summery bungalow house I am residing in on Palm Beach Shores
is holding the inside temperature at 59 degrees, it was 34 outside. The morning sun is just beginning to stream in, so my housemate and I are huddled in the sunshine, sipping our morning beverages. Tomorrow afternoon I shift locations to St. Thomas for, presumably, warmer weather ;-) .