Rusty's Armory

Sunday Reflections: Embracing Quietude and Gratitude

Posted on November 19, 2023

The gentle rhythm of Sunday has arrived, carrying with it a blanket of tranquility. I’ve been quiet lately, not so much from a lack of words but from an abundance of weariness. My own posts, once a source of joy and expression, now seem dull and uninspiring. The allure of fiction has faded, and even poetry, with its lyrical cadence, holds little charm.

This subdued state, I’ve come to realize, is a whisper of mild depression. Yet, the mere mention of it to medical professionals triggers an avalanche of prescription drugs, a quick fix that leaves me yearning for a more natural approach. I prefer the gentle cadence of nature’s healing touch, a slow walk through sun-dappled glades, a soothing breeze caressing my face.

Among the myriad medications I’ve been prescribed, one stands out, a beacon of hope amidst the fog of malaise. When I neglect to take it, the world turns bleak, a stark reminder of its importance. This realization has instilled in me a newfound responsibility towards my own well-being.

As I sit before the glowing screen, the familiar cursor blinking impatiently, a pang of guilt washes over me. The words I seek seem trapped, refusing to flow freely from my fingertips. This technique, once a reliable remedy for writer’s block, has lost its magic. Perhaps it’s the lack of movement, the stillness of my surroundings, that hinders my creativity. It’s challenging to craft words when my life itself is in a state of stasis.

My dear wife, Snookums, soldiers on with remarkable resilience, her spirit undimmed by the trials she faces. She’s embarked on a clinical trial, testing a drug that promises to slow the relentless deterioration of her condition, even reversing it in some cases. Yet, progress is measured in millimeters, and definitive proof remains elusive. Despite the uncertainty, I cherish her infectious humor, her ability to find joy amidst the shadows. Laughter, I’ve discovered, is a potent balm for the soul.

The days slip by like a blur, each one a picket fence post flashing past, a reminder that the final one is approaching. I don’t fear that inevitable day; it will arrive when it’s meant to, and I’ll depart without a backward glance. Or so I hope.

As we embark on this Thanksgiving week, let us pause, reflect on our blessings, and savor the simple joys that life has to offer. May this Sunday be a day of peace, contentment, and renewed hope.

Good morning, and may the day unfold with kindness and grace.

g.