So last weekend was really tough.
Juxtaposed among my cantorial soloist duties out of town were the start of my period and the hormonal fluctuations that go with that; the lack of access to a bike (or time to ride it); and the ongoing downward spiral of the news of the world.
(Helluva time to have to deal with Yom Kippur, no?)
So on the train back from Bremerton on Sunday, I had time to ponder, in my hormonal swirling haze, the size and dimension of the handbag we're all riding to hell and how the very act of living, of taking up space in the world and using up resources was rapidly becoming seen as a crime by the lords of industry. Because apparently social Darwinism is cool again. (kids -- see: Germany, 1930s)
By the time I got home, I was exhausted (from leading YK services, which takes a lot out of a soloist even on a good day) and heading down, down, down into a very bad place. So bad that, when it came time to build our Sukkah yestyerday, I didn't have the energy or the desire to get started. Finally, the crying jag came on Sweetie's shoulder, during which she said, "when you're finished you can take a nap. And riding to your student's house tonight for a lesson will make you fell better. So will drinking a lot of water."
Of course, she was right. She almost always is.
I was in a much better place after the lesson, and today I will go for another ride in the cooling air of autumn in Oregon.
I am still dog-tired and another nap will be in order; but once again the amazing healing power of a simple bicycle ride can really help.
Happy riding, dear readers.