Before I forget, CHECK OUT THE POLL ON THE RIGHT HAND SIDE OF YOUR SCREEN!
It's now October. I realized on my way to work Friday that it was the first. I've heard an old wives tale that if the first words out of your mouth on the first day of the month are "rabbit, rabbit" then you'll have good luck. I chuckle to think about this. I have managed a couple times over the years to say it but didn't notice a perceptible change in luck. This month it did get me started thinking where that tale comes from. I think I've sorted it. It was a morning, the first of a month, back in the days of hunter-gatherer societies. a woman wakes up as her husband is setting off to find some food for the day. She's just opened her eyes when behind her husband she sees a rabbit go zinging by. Thinking she'll save him some time today, and already thinking about the rabbit stew she'll make, she yells, "Rabbit! Rabbit!" and points it out. When the husband returned with the rabbit she'd indicated, they ate well. Hence, good luck. Fairly certain this isn't the actual heritage of the old wives tale but I like it just the same. Addendum: I had to look it up :http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rabbit_rabbit . I think my explanation was way better.
One of my most treasured ties to home is Major league Baseball (MLB). When I was in Spain, I was gifted a subscription to MLB.com one year. I sat in my room watching the most recently games of my beloved Mariners at all hours of the day. I could occasionally catch a live game, but the website saves all the games so I could watch at my convenience. This year I passed on the subscription because when I was up in Pluit the internet was horrible. Often no connection, or if there was, it was so slow I would have gone crazy trying to watch a game. Turns out it was for the best anyway. My Mariners finished the year 61-101 (win-losses). the only team worse in either league was the Pittsburgh Pirates.
|courtesy of commons.wikimedia.com|
As a child I'd have evenings that turned into nights of dread. It usually happened on days when I was exhausted by bed time. Not just tired, really through and through exhausted. Then I'd realize I forgot my homework or something would happen that sent me into a flurry of tears, sobbing explanations and a stuffy nose. Mom's stand-by advice was to get some rest, that things would look better in the morning. As a child, I often found it unfathomable that things would look any better in a few hours and yet they always did. I still believe that it's easier to be upset and depressed at night and many things, even if it's still bad, are slightly better in the morning. Sunrise, over a span of cultures and centuries, seems to generally be tied to rebirth, renewal and hope. Sunset with death, an ending or finishing of things. I found sunrise during my time on the Camino de Santiago de la Compostela (http://www.santiago-compostela.net/) and a happy rewarding sunset was at the End of the world. It was in Finisterre, a location not far from the town of Santiago de la Compostela. It's on the far western coast of Spain, right near Portugal. In Medieval times it was the end of the know world, all you could see was ocean into infinity. After completing my camino, I sat on the rock and watched the sun dissolve into the sea, feeling a sense of accomplishment and calm.
|From my Yogyakarta trip|
As a continuation of the previous though is my new "Friday morning is the anti-Sunday night". I hadn't initially planned this as a continuation of the above. I considered each of these ideas at different times, their cognizance completely individual, but now that I'm writing one after the other, they seem inextricably linked. As I often find it darkest before the dark (literally), I also struggle with Sunday evenings. I'm not sure why it's always a lull in my energy. It could be the subconscious struggle with returning to work on Monday. It might be a comedown from a busy weekend-though not all weekends are go-go-go. The Sunday blahs and I are well acquainted. I am aware of them, and we co-exist in a strained relationship. Last Friday, while traveling to school on the back of the ojek, as the sun was rising I realized that for me, Friday morning is the anti-Sunday night. The sun was just high enough to have lit the world but still be hidden by a small low flying cloud. I was excited that it was the last work day of the week, that I had plans with my friends for the night, that it was a new month with new promise. The high buoyed me through until about 4 when a headache slammed into my brain full force. True to form, I had my mellow, slightly down Sunday. For me, I no longer try to fight those depressions (like a pothole) but know that they're there, and aim for the edges that might make the bike wobble, instead of the center which can cause a crash.