Focus pocus

On Friday I head to the hills for Ollie's birthday. We are headed back to Snowdonia. This time it will be cold. I find myself preparing every day in some way. I enjoy prepartion. I find comfort in the focus it gives me and I find myself a far cry from those endless, aimless days horizontal and lost. Focus and preparation are perhaps some of the most practical tools in anyone's life, whether depressive or not. And what better thing to focus your mind than a change in season or the celebration of a great friend's continued existence. And in this fine case, both.

It is so easy to lose focus. There is so much distraction and so many things to draw your attention elsewhere, towards some exciting new thing that really will be of little actual worth. This I have found particularly disgusting and disturbingly emblematic...

Mountains of Fear

I completely forget that my legs are tired and that there is a 7lb pack on my back. I forget that I like to eat cheese, even though I am trying to stop eating it for my heart. I forget about the changes I am trying to make in my life and I forget that I have a job. Everything now is focused on my imminent death and there comes that terrible movement of the solid. It is not an earthquake, but my fear.

Snowflakes and mental health

I have recently been on assignment in a terrible place. I had been there casually for many years, oftentimes without knowing so. Over the past five of my six-and-twenty years it became more apparent that I needed to visit with some purpose. And now I feel obliged to report some of my dispatches.

Paring Back

"The man who has begun to live more seriously within begins to live more simply without."

-Ernest Hemingway

I am continually trying to cut down the amount of stuff I own. I had always thought I was doing well until I last moved house. It took me two days to unpack and rearrange my stuff. So today I have started to take more action.