Summer of Nightwalking
The dog days of August were also the mangy mutts of June and July
“I dine, I play a game of back-gammon, I converse, and am merry with my friends; and when, after three or four hour’s amusement, I would return to these speculations, they appear so cold, and strain’d, and ridiculous, that I cannot find it in my heart to enter into them any farther.”
—David Hume (my new hero—with reservations)
“Aging: The extraordinary process whereby you become the person you always should have been.”
—Attributed to David Bowie (always my hero)
Hey ho, I’m still here.
Some days, just barely.
It’s been a rough summer—disappointing but not tragic. “A summer of Nightwalking,” I guess.
But it’s good to be back here with y’all again.
As mentioned previously, I don’t believe Nightwalking is depression. I’ve skirted that this summer primarily for one reason—loneliness. It’s been at a maddening level, turned to 11. Friends haven’t been very helpful, but I don’t blame them. Here’s the deal: you have people in your life until one day you don’t. It’s as simple as that. You can’t go “shop for new people.” Ain’t done, isn’t a thing. And even then, it would be way too transactional. Relationships take time; so now I’m understanding the benefit my young friends got from forming massive amounts of relationships from a young age.
For me it was always “quality over quantity,” which if you do the math that means: “less.”
To counteract the poison that is loneliness, rather than speed-dialing every goddamn person I know (*raises hand, yup, I’m an idiot, did that*) I’ve been trying to find my way back to chores like cleaning and cooking for myself that used to bring me to that “blissfully useful” state of Zen some of us know well.
Guess what?
It works!
I made a mostly vegan brunch today (okay, okay, there was a fried egg on it) that was so damn delicious I was in tears. If that’s not the definition of self-help, I don’t know what is.
Then, two weeks ago, in a random conversation with a bartender, I found Stargazing again. I’m working through that moment in a forthcoming post at this point titled “The Inner Eye,” which is really another term for Stargazing. I love this; it’s what really saves me every time.
Nightwalking—it gets old and, if too old, molders into depression. Daytalking? Wonderful tonic but can be abused, like anything good. It’s almost “manic,” if I can pull a term from the DSM-5-TR, whereby it needs to be weighed by Stargazing—curiosity lightly sugar and salted with joyfulness.
That’s the sweet spot.
So, as we all probably do, we rely on past experience.
I loved summer as a kid; as an older adult, not so much.
Autumn in the upper midwest can be beautiful; I’m hoping for a long fall this year, well into November. Then I’m traveling again in December. The job and new “Stargazing,” are pointing me in that direction and I’ll be happy to report more when I know it (especially in the forthcoming post on Stargazing).
In the end, I’m grateful for the new subscribers here and please, if you feel compelled, introduce yourselves in the comments below. I often wonder who you are and how you are faring in this world at the moment.
But it’s great to imagine you well and happy.
Cheers, MM
Addendum: So, no sooner did I publish this when I ran across this. Maybe something in here for all of us? Best, MM