Depression

Depression. Thorns in your side. Burrs that burrow deep, aggravate and rub and cannot be brushed aside with ease. Needles poking. Hard. Stiff. Cannot argue with depression because it breaks off pieces of your logic like broken stems and jabs your lost thought-thorns harder into your eyes. You are clinging hard, but only getting stung. Can’t you see the blue sky beyond? Okay, maybe you see it, but you have to look away, because it means nothing.  Depression holds your attention and makes the blue sky irrelevant, impossible to reach.

Pray for a stiff wind to come and knock down depression, to uproot it, to clear the view so that the sky becomes blue again. You need a hoe or a rake to weed out bad thoughts. You need fresh seed. Reach up and hold the hand that is offered, so you can get up off your knees embedded in the prickly ground, and stand. Breathe. Live. Relive. Grow.

Please come back tomorrow for a new “Weed Image of the Day” and let me know which ones you like.

We and our weeds are so much more than what we first appear to be.

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