I happen to like melancholy. I know that makes me a big fat weirdo, but hey! Think about it! When I’m not feeling all up and bright and shiny, I slow down. I slow down and I spend time in my own company, sometimes with a journal and pen, sometimes with podcasts I love plugged into my ears, sometimes on a long and rambly walk through Mount Hope Cemetery.

I’m not good at taking time for myself unless I have the blahs. Having the blahs gives me the perfect excuse to go get me some solitude, which I heartily need, and more often than I allow myself.

Yesterday I spiked a fever. I felt really down in that subdued sort of not quite depressed but not happy either way. I felt like I wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers and hide from a world that, while not exactly hostile, wasn’t feeling none too friendly, either. H1N1, shitty reviews, back handed compliments, days growing darker sooner, and the realization that the festival season is truly, officially over and I missed *so much* this year…

Kaleidoscope Gathering, Harvestfest, Feast of the Dead…

Missed ’em all.

Boo, hiss.

But, crawling under the covers and liberally applying OJ to my feverish innards seemed to kick the crap out of whatever was attempting to plague me. I got time to journal and think, to plan for next year’s festival season, to plot new shows and daydream about someday when my house is beautiful (that time, she’s a comin’!) and I can fill my hearth space with people and laughter and parties and circles.
 
It was good. Really good.

Now maybe one day I’ll get beyond needing the melancholia as an excuse to go be with myself for a while, but in the meantime, I’m grateful that my body does this. Turns itself down low, flickers where once it danced like flames. And the bright, shiny, bouncy me always returns in short order, so I’m doubly grateful. Without this message from my body, this overcast sort of throbbing need for self-care and time alone, I’d probably burn out. No. I know I’d burn out!

So thank you to my body for giving me fits of melancholy, and thank you to my spirit for knowing what to do with those fits; for succumbing and flowing through it so I can emerge on the other side refreshed and ready for more ohhhhhh, shiny!

I’ve got a lot to do today. The job I started yesterday needs to be finished; there’s a bookshelf I need to clean out and move so I can accommodate two new desks (frosted glass and wrought iron, one for me and one for my beloved); two desks to build because every damned piece of furniture out there comes flat packed these days; a fridge to clean out; a bedroom to clean; and … yeah. A lot.

I don’t love doing this kind of stuff. I love the results, though, and I love the sense of accomplish so in order to get myself from point A (Pine Sol Asanas as Jen put it) to point B (Oh, shiny!), I often have to find some way to get around my own resistance. The way I’ve found that works best is by turning the doing into a devotion. Before I begin, I state an intention, either out loud or in my head, and I devote the work as service. Sometimes I devote the work to the spirit of my home, or to the spirit of my family. Today, I’m opting to use the energy of cleaning (which is a kind of banishing, don’tcha know) to the immune systems of my nears and dears. In other words, scrubbing walls and decluttering becomes an act of magic that holds the intention of scrubbing the bodies (both physical and subtle) of my beloveds of anything disease causing.

I do this for the highest good with harm to none.

It makes housework … well, not fun, exactly, but more meaningful, and I’m a meaning junkie. 🙂

Participants in the SpiritsCast 101 indicated that they’d like me to have a blog, too, so here I am with a dedicated space for SpiritsCast 101 musings and entries.  In the next few days I’ll be adding links to the other participant blogs. Meanwhile, I have a list of things to do the length of my arm, so I’m off to do them. 🙂

Watch this space!

Feithline