Sunday, August 25, 2019

Malaise or Melancholy?

Yesterday was an unusual Saturday.  I was the manager on duty at campus, so I went to work from 9-1.  It was a stormy start to the day, so it's not like I'd have been lounging by the pool. 

I came home and spent the afternoon watching The African Americans:  Many Rivers to Cross.  Sure, it was a PBS fundraiser, and I've seen parts of it before.  But it's a magnificent series.  When the fundraising came on, I went to shred papers or put things away.  I got laundry done and piles of paper sorted, filed, or shredded.  I felt my brain perking up with all the insight that Henry Louis Gates has to offer on our U.S. history.

My Saturdays have often been wasted on cooking shows and naps and feeling like I should be getting more done, but feeling such a sense of malaise about it all. 

Is it malaise or is it melancholy?

I have been feeling a some sort of blues for much of the summer, certainly for July and August.  I've said, "Well, some years the summer weather is harder on me than other years."  But lately, I've wondered if it might not be weather-related.

This post by Beth Adams gave me some new insight into my mood this morning.  She says, "I feel like I've been in mourning all summer."  There is much to mourn, and she notes the larger picture beyond the individual outrages and degradations:  "But underpinning these catastrophes are the male aggressiveness, bravado, greed, competitiveness, and desire for domination at all costs that have driven our world since the beginning."

Unlike many of us, who might attempt a variety of escapes, she's returned to the wisdom of Tolstoy.  I can't imagine reading Tolstoy in the summer, but kudos to those who can.  She notes, " As Tolstoy pointed out about Napoleon and, to a lesser extent, the Tsar, one single man, no matter how charismatic or powerful, cannot gain that power unless he taps into broad undercurrents of belief already present in the population. The systemic violence, greed, racism, misogyny, homophobia, and exploitation that feed everything from war to genocide to climate change run very deeply and broadly; what Walter Wink called "The Powers and Principalities" have been operating since human societies began. By and large these systems have been dominated by white males who have believed in their right to supremacy over people of all other races, as well as over women. Even today, with all of our progress, women of every race are still below men in nearly every measure except life expectancy. And even the most intelligent and well-educated of us are often in positions where, to help families and institutions function, or in order to have some influence, we end up serving the men who actually hold the power."

I do a lot of reading of a variety of materials thinking that maybe I'll get some understanding or insight or wisdom--but Beth Adams' post is a far more coherent piece of analysis than almost anything I've read recently.

She's returning to practices that have served her well.  She says, "For me, the contemplative practices of art, music, journaling and being in nature are part of this path, and so is silent meditation, especially in a world that has become cacophonous to the point of damaging our very ability to speak effectively to one another or listen to what is said. On the other side of the coin is Action, but action (of which speech is a part) must proceed from a centered, calm, free, and deeply considered place in order to have any power against the forces that threaten everything we hold dear."

I read her piece before I went on my morning walk.  I want to get away from my computer screen more as the weeks go on.  I, too, want to return to the habits that are more nourishing:  getting fresh air (even when it's hot and humid air), sketching, writing, reading that will help my brain not hurt it.

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