There’s meditation and there’s medication and there’s therapy and friendship. There’s conversation and there’s communication and there’s alcohol. But sometimes, when the nameless dread or the twisting worry kicks in, amplified just now by Brexit/Trump/2016 and all that is unravelling, it’s hard to know which to choose. You’re literally at a loss. No morale in the bank. No perspective to call on.
Here’s a humble suggestion from one who’s lived and loved and lost a bit: find yourself a piece of sky. Doesn’t have to be blue or sunny, it just has to be sky.
Because sky represents the power of possibility. It is a higher power delivered without the need to work on a spiritual life which some (me) find difficult/bordering on impossible. The sky is bigger than us. And who knows what is coming? Sun, rain, lightning, clouds, either romantic or threatening. Good or bad it moves and passes. Darkness, dusk, dawn – it pulls you into the present.
Sky is space. It allows room for bruises to fade and hearts to howl or to leap and sing with joy. The best thing I can do when it’s all very nearly too, too, too much is to go into my postage-stamp-sized patch of garden, lie flat on my back and keep my eyes open. I am immediately better able to deal. In no way should we discount shrinks or booze or the rest. But when needs must, do me a favour and find yourself your own little piece of sky.