Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Stress ... health... energy

I feel so depressed. I am not up to anything. I feel wasted.

And the swing goes right low. The common term we hear for this is depression. The feeling of being listless, wasted, tasteless, lacking desire and nerve for anything.  I have known this and have known it quite often than I am scared of it, known it so well as to feel like it is part of me.

It is a sickness of emotion, sometimes. I have often fancied it. When most of the energy surging up from deep within us is not well-channeled or directed to where it isn't needed. Or could it be this way round, that we receive a lot of negative, polluted energy into our system?

Negative energy causes stress. It is indigestible and makes the system suffer... it could be hatred, resentment, a sinister boredom that goes with lassitude of spirit. Something often, always touches upon our mind. A word thrown to us from the street, something like "nigger", this "brown" slave... and I bet, it doesn't just amuse you that people could think of you as being different from others. It might have seemed so little, well that meaningless, somewhat imperceptible gesture from your boyfriend or girlfriend, the somber look on this person who had always radiated light and warmth around you. And it has made you a jerk... you won't accept it, you feign it, you let everyone feel that you can stand it, you walk with your head held high... but deep inside only you know the ache and the strain at keeping your mind cool.

I have had the worst forms of stress in so young an age. I bet it isn't great things that give us stress, but little, intangibly good-for-nothing things or words or gestures we allow to get into our minds. Sometimes, things we can let go in that easy-going elegance of sweet carelessness. It is never easy to let go of those little things which like stubborn brier grips our mind. So how do we find life and health when the mind is tortured by cares we cannot divest ourselves of and rest is snapped off our palms? I have one easy way of coping...

.... so damn easy,

I exult in the thing I am best at, the thing I am passionate about... like stroking the strings of my guitar, slowly, loosely and feeling the vibrations through my body. Or sitting down on my laptop and releasing it on words, watching them slip out of my mind unto a notepad. Don't you know the fresh air out of this stuffed room brings you into contact with the purity and freedom of nature? A walk, a cheese game, a theater show... but remember, one of the best stress relievers is the thing you are passionate about. Get to it, touch it, feel it. Life returns, or at least, some life returns.

2 comments:

CosmoChuva said...

Now I feel bad for not being there for you during this time of "depression" or sadness. Is this really you talking? People in the streets calling you "nigga" still?

Must be quarter life crisis... haha! We're getting old. ;( I sometimes feel the same way. I tend to reflect a lot about my life now and what I've done and it stresses me.

It's all just a matter of being positive about what is still at stake for your future. Your fate is in your hands, as they say. As long as you do something about it, then you'll be perfectly okay.

Take care, my friend!

ROMUALD DZEMO said...

Hi MM...

I was thinking about stress... Remember I hardly talk about myself in my blogs. That was a reflection... I have grown to hear worst stuff than nigger... something like "black monkey", you know what it feels... but it means nothing to Rom and you know why? I am what I am worth. I am proud of my black heritage. The color-line thought pattern belonged to an age of people with an identity crisis. The problem isn't the "nigger", but the mind that distinguishes people only by their size or color... There is more to being human than the shape we carry. Don't you think?

welcome to the WORLD OF HAVEN VALLEY

I am not a cut different from the ordinary human who walks the street. But in my journey, I strive to understand the music that surges from the wide worlds within every individual, that which makes him/her that fragile and sacred at the same time. I have found myself sometimes looking at someone farting with thumps-up as though goading him on to sanity. Seemingly meaningless things have been things that have communicated sense to me especially during louring hours. That is what this journal is. I offer these thoughts to the world with wonted pleasure and gratitude to all that awakens the human in me.

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