I’ve been reading Parker Palmer new book: ON the BRINK of EVERYTHING.
I read it slowly, savoring every paragraph, reflecting on it every few pages.
You remember I have depression, and now, a few months into feeling good, I can see when this latest episode got started. It was a full five years before I sought treatment in March of 2017. One of my goals is to catch it earlier next time, as there is likely to be a next time. I’m okay with that. I’ll probably stay on meds now, and I’m okay with that, too.
Two paragraphs from Palmer’s book has resonated with me, and I’ll share them with you now.
“Even the most devastating experience can be a doorway to contemplation. At least, that’s been true for me in the wake of my depressions. While you are down there, reality disappears. Everything is illusion foisted on you by the self-destructive “voice of depression,” the voice that keeps telling you you are a waste of space, the world is a torture chamber, and nothing short of death can give you peace. But as you emerge, problems become manageable again, and everyday realities—a crimson glow on the horizon, a friend’s love, a stranger’s kindness, another precious day of life—present themselves as the treasures they truly are.”
“I’m a “contemplative by catastrophe.” My wake-up calls generally come after the wreck has happened and I’m trying to dig my way out of the debris. I do not recommend this path as a conscious choice. But if you, dear reader, have a story similar to mine, I come as the bearer of glad tidings. Catastrophe, too, can be a contemplative path, pitches and perilous as it may be.”
Next time, I’ll catch it sooner. In the meantime, I’ll accept everyday realities as the treasures they truly are.
Peace to you.
Feather in the Wilderness 
Truer words. Every challenge leads to realization — and often to a new and better path.
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