8-7-2021: Day 28
Today began in a worrisome fashion. From the minute I shook myself from a stressful dream of a deadly lime-green snake curled round my feet, and raised my weary head from the pillow, I’ve been grinding through the gears trying to fathom out why I feel so spaced out and shellshocked.
There is the alcohol, the football, the celebrations, and the prospect of it ‘coming home’ in the final of the Euro’s. But this feels more of a medicated state of being – of coming down from a Class A – without the party drugs or hedonistic memories.
So, I run through my mind gym workout exercise. I start by picking up and flicking through the blurry postcards of yesterday’s memories. It’s like Guy Pierce in ‘Memento’, when he flicks through the Polaroids, to piece together the puzzle of his life. I have rampant morning amnesia, a by-product of the psych meds, and this mind gym exercise is the only B-road into the promise of the day.
12-7-2021: Day 32
Last night, following the national drama and familiar heartache of the penalty shootout in the final of the Euro’s, I found myself slumped in a lounge chair at 4am contemplating the loss to Italy. Hungover with the long shadow of insomnia is not always a good combination, but my mind was racing with the fallout from the game. I was feeling for the young lads who missed their penalties, wondering what new hell of abuse would be blazing through the socials, wondering how these sport-inflicted scars can last a lifetime.
13-7-2021: Day 33
Held in a traffic queue on the school run, my mind was ticking over with thoughts of energy and how best to seed, cultivate and harvest it in my life.
The Finnish angel – my long-time therapist, confidante, and soul surgeon – was talking in my session yesterday about ‘good energy’ and waiting for the critical moment to engage in those Gordian knot conversations that require guile, patience, and stealthy unravelling.
Following my therapy session, I found myself down by the ocean meditating on the gentle lapping waves, whilst wolfing down a petrol station pasty.
The sea was calm and glassy, barely a ripple on the surface, and as it rolled in, in an infinite washing tide, I contemplated life and its ceaseless energy flow.
In so many ways, our lives are like this infinite energy pool of the ocean. Sometimes calm, with a deep expansive sea of energy to draw down on. Sometimes tidal, riding the waves of energy as they crash on the shores of life. And sometimes stormy, when the energy waves crash without rhythm or reason, and the water blinds and stings the eyes.