The Mean Reds

It’s so hard to be still sometimes. I have the feeling that everything around me is falling apart, that centers of gravity are spinning away, and the world is dissolving around me. Without action all will be lost, but I can not think what action to take. When I have this feeling it leads to the “mean reds”; that’s the Truman Capote term from Breakfast at Tiffany’s. There is no help for it. I am stuck, but I am boiling over. The internal temperature of my mind grows like a water heater out of control. The steam is going to have to blow.

I must remember the quiet, patient things. Forests and lakes are patient. The ocean remains undisturbed. Emily is watchful as she lies on the couch, but she sleeps more now. She is willing to let the world take its course. I must learn to do the same, but it’s so hard. How will I ever achieve my goals without striving for them? And having striven, strive even more.

I believe in balance. I believe that my world is not entirely in my control, and that I must let the good things come to me. When I have the mean reds, is it the world telling me that I need to get off my butt and take action, or is it a primal urge surfacing that my intelligent, advanced humanity should learn to suppress? Or is it just another day that I have to get through, the best that I can?

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