Day Fifty-eight

I awakened feeling sad this morning. Nothing is wrong; I simply feel sad. It isn't a bad feeling. It's simply a feeling that will pass. 

As I meditated I found that my mind kept drifting toward the past... people, animals, places that were once in my life but aren't now. It's sort of like saying "good-bye," although I understand that doing that requires much more than one morning of sadness.

There is something that Joseph Campbell wrote or said about saying good-bye as one ages that is on the edge of my conscious mind. I must look it up soon.

My melancholia  is past. Meditation, reflection, and my normal morning spiritual discipline brought me new feelings. I must, however, locate the words of Joseph Campbell that are just beyond my conscious recollection.

When I opened the front door a few minutes ago to bring in the Sunday newspaper, Alex bolted through it. That's really good: the little fellow hasn't asked to go outside in over a week. He just stayed on his table, in the bathtub, or on the washing machine, sleeping. I was beginning to worry about my buddy.

 He's OK outside. Alex does 3 things when he is out: 

(1) grazes grass; 

(2) investigates the patio of my neighbor who has a dog; 

(3) and reclines in the sunlight on our patio. 

When Alex is ready to come in, he'll scratch at the patio door and, if I don't hear him, Sugar will let me know that Alex wants in.

I've become too tired to continue the chores that need to be done here. When one weights almost a fifth of a ton—I used to weigh over a fifth of a ton—one can become easily fatigued. That's what has happened now; and I still have loads of housework to do before the prospective housekeeper meets with me tomorrow afternoon. [SIGH]