It's been a dark season. Metaphorically and literally. The former in a high number of challenges that came in 2009; the latter because I found myself for months unable to get out of bed much before noon, and as the days became shorter in early winter, and my few waking daylight hours were spent working deep in a basement, I wondered if I was in a self-perpetuating cycle of light-deprivation induced depression. But I also felt plain awful all the time with a series of alarming symptoms. It turned out I'd had mono for months. Mono? What?! I was prescribed sleep, which I was thankful for and took to heart, canceled all of my beloved projects, and stayed in bed 95% of the time for weeks.
I'm finally feeling a little like myself, and it's been strange learning to take my time with things again, like cooking, reading, drawing, and doing nothing at all. I started to remember the sort of life I had 20 or so years ago when I lived in a much quieter, slower place. I've started wanting to dig for those roots of me I left in the woods.
My mum gave me paperwhite bulbs which sprouted fast and with insistence. I succumbed and ordered seeds which I haven't done for years, and built a window farm with florescent lights which help the seeds, but also incidentally light my studio up like daylight in the evening, and this is good since I'm still waking up at noon and working in a basement. Plus the wet soil just smells so very good.
And by the way, I finally finished Chiru, and felt it was time to start the blog again. But more on that later. Right now, I'm wicked tired.