with the blues on my mind. All I could figure out was that I just felt sad, cumulatively sad---about the world, the sorrow and grief that dominate the front pages of the media, the frustration and anger that generate so much of that sorrow and grief, and the weak though passionate efforts we make to change the world's pain into joy.
And then I had my cup of coffee and realized that every headline, every news broadcast, every Facebook cause that implores me to join it, reminds me of every other grief and sorrow I've ever experienced. I am cumulatively (though not terminally) sad.
I am sad for the victims and the perpetrator at Ft. Hood, sad for the Seattle cops who lost a comrade and sad for his killer whose anger may never be understood. I am sad because my dear congregant Hildred died two weeks ago, sad because Jerry Davidoff just died yesterday, sad because more troops are going to Afghanistan and sad because the alternative is no better. I'm sad that dear friends are sick, some with cancer, some with flu, some with minor ailments, some with chronic illnesses that will never go away. I'm sad because people are afraid of one another, sad because people are angry with one another, sad because so many people don't know how or are afraid to use their anger productively, not violently. I'm sad for all those whose lives are touched directly or indirectly by murder, natural death, illness, and violence.
I'm not depressed. I'm sad. The sadness that is part and parcel of human life doesn't go away; it forms a foundation upon which we build our lives, recognizing that sadness is not necessarily bad. Sadness makes me think. Sadness makes me appreciate the dear ones whose lives are ended. Sadness helps me recognize how valuable people are, how much they have given me and others. Sadness reminds me that we are all in this together, that the only way out is through, that out of sadness can come action.
It helps to put it down on "paper". It helps to know that you all feel sad sometimes too. It helps to sing the blues. At least I haven't wrecked my pickup, lost my dog or my good man, or had a daughter go bad. The Corolla's still running, the cats are mostly well-behaved (except for Max who continues to pee when pissed), the good man is still unaware of himself, and the Favorite Son is a continuing joy to me.
I have lots to feel good about but I'm still sad. Just give me time. The action will start again soon.