I suppose in a mechanism as squishy and inconstant as the human brain, with all its various concentrations of neurotransmitters, hormones and nutrients, it is no surprise that the experience of being conscious can vary so greatly. Given the rudimentary nature of my own cognition over Christmas and New Year, the contrast is somewhat remarkable (inasmuch as I am actually remarking on it here). What could be responsible for such wild swings in the brain's emotional and intellectual performance?
Could it be perhaps the ingestion of lots of fermented vegetables which I am told will "repair" damaged gut fauna after a dose of rather brutal but necessary antibiotics? I confess, this is my latest nutritional discovery and I am impressed with how much tastier vegetables are if you shred them, add spices and leave them in a bowl for the various bacteria to do their magic. It's an odd thing to be evangelising about but after a couple of weeks, I confess, subjectively that I do feel different, though well-known human heuristics make an objective judgement impossible of course.
Perhaps it is the disciplined resumption of my gym regime, necessary because a chap of my advancing years cannot be too careful, what with testosterone levels dropping year by year and muscle mass declining commensurately. Well not with me, Age, my dear adversary! Not yet anyway. I have dancing to do; Tango in dimly lit bars and elsewhere, energetic lifts to perform with ladies whose weight I must appear to bear without strain or complaint.
Expressing joy through the medium of dance, by flinging someone about. |
Or perhaps the Earth, the Galaxy, the Universe, as it rotates, passes through wisps of some kind of field which induces in us inspiration and sprightly spirits? Could that be it perhaps?
Or maybe it is simply that I discovered Pinterest and have subsequently been amassing pallets in my shed in order to construct projects. Indeed, last night I made a beer crate out of planks and it gave me an inordinate amount of satisfaction. A Small thing, but mine own. Next: Pallet Patio Furniture for Summer evenings! Making things seems existentially satisfying.
I made this and I am deeply satisfied as a result. |
With all the misery and tragedy in the world, societal and personal, perhaps a moment's thought about what lifts us to happier places is something worth trying every now and again. I saw crocuses today.
3 comments:
No crocuses here yet, but I've been listening to blackbirds singing every morning while still in bed (me, not the blackbirds) for at least a week now, and this is so heartstring-tuggingly beautiful!
I know real spring is still a long way off, but one day, it will be there, and I shall be able to put the padded winter coat aside and leave the scarf and gloves at home when I go out.
Glad to know your mind has had a spring-cleaning of sorts already!
Like Librarian, I heard a blackbird singing at the top of its lungs today. Only for 10 minutes or so, but it sang out its complete conviction that to sing is what it needs to do.
My own singing is less powerful, dread and grey moods get in the way too often for my liking but perhaps I can convince myself that this too will pass.
We are all alike in our highs and lows; those of us who are determinedly bright and cheerful at all times should be strangled without mercy.
I have been making blackbird nest boxes and putting them up but so far no takers. But we had several broods of blackbirds last year in the garden so the population is quite healthy and wonderfully vociferous. The dawn chorus at about five is glorious. Reminds me of my weeks of convalescence when I always was awake at that time and trying to make sense of the world. As a result, I try to be as much as possible the blackbird and sing as joyfully as I can, with respect to circumstances.
Post a Comment