For those of you who may be familiar with Latin or those of you that have known me through my blog since it's inception in early 2005, "A fictional iter itineris" began on my blog of 9/19/06.
A stick in the mud is a point of avoidance; giving a wide berth, for in so doing, you can avoid getting shit on your shoes. I have become that stick. Perhaps I should be pleased by my service but no one really enjoys being stuck in shit, now do they?
I have become increasingly dis-associative; hence my semi fictional account of the cabin, of Earle, and of my long hike in the wood. Although rooted in truth and in characterizations of people that I truly know, the stories are a fictional account of my current struggles with tough financial times, ongoing problems of health, deep spiritual conflict, and a family tree aflame with depression.
I am a shell of my former self. I was a poor steward of my money when I had it. Depression is so clearly genetic. Especially when you examine my family tree. My health problems further deepens the depression. It's sad that I cannot receive herbs and accupunture without having a fat wallet. It's a shame that even spiritual instruction comes with a price.
I need help. Or I need awareness. I'm just tired, uninspired, beat up and desperate.
Mark, I need that Tonglen. I do.