Seasons

Well, it seems that something in my psyche has "decided" that I will write a monthly column instead of a weekly one. I'm not sure how long this will last, but must honor it while it does, I guess. This winter has seemed like a long one. After the five feet of snow that fell on Christmas Eve, the landscape never really changed from being relentlessly white and frozen. It seemed like it would go on forever and ever and it left me more almost completely housebound than I have been since I moved from New York City almost three years ago. Hopefully someone will come and look at my car tomorrow and help end my isolation, but since we are apparently expecting more snow tonight and tomorrow, that may be delayed yet again. Still, though it's cold today, there is bright sun, and there are signs of Spring. Plants are beginning to push new life up from below ground. Life is awesome.

Then there are other seasons changing as well. The antique kitty is suddenly feeling her age. She has made a little bit of a come-back the past few days but she has done a lot of falling down of late. Her walk is unsteady and she needs help standing up much of the time. She is still alert and eating, still knows what she wants and wobbles her way to her destination no matter how many times her little grey self just kind of plops over. She seems more puzzled by these things than frightened. Animals don't (I think) have the human tendency to project their fears forward. They live in the moment. The moment of falling down is followed by the moment of getting up and trying to figure out how not to fall down again. I wish I was more like that. When I fall down, I'm prone to think that if I just stay there, I am less likely to fall down again. While there may be some short-term truth in this, it's not a constructive approach to survival and ultimately increases the chances of falling again when I finally do get up and try. I think that's some of the logic of agoraphobia. The emotional response is that if we stay inside we can hide from the fear, but the fear doesn't actually go away and the more we hide from it, the bigger it seems to get. Or that's the way it is for me. A long winter of being trapped inside by Mother Nature working in tandem with my own nature, has moved me backward. Going out the door is a bigger fight than it was six months ago. That may change when Car-Car is up and running again. I hope so. I have been alone too much.

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