Le acque del mio baia

I am melancholy. I have struggled, resisted, pleaded and eventually acknowledged my tendencies to slip into dismal abyss. But acknowledging is different then accepting. It's a self-induced downward spiral the role melancholy plays. I slide into sorrow and then become painfully more sorrowful because I feel I can't do anything about it; That I lack the ability to lift my face out of the dirt long enough to see the light and crawl towards it. Instead I recognize that I am face first in a pile of sludge and then wail more heavily, inhaling the darkness deeper. Devotion to change takes diligence without assurance. Though I may never have full control over whether my life will continue to resemble Yosemite's geographical landscape, I hold tight to the challenge. Somewhere in my brain, the miniscule part that has been miraculaously uninfected by melancholy's touch, knows that I am capable of "deciding how I will spend my time, whom I will interact with, whom I will share my life and money and energy with. I can select what I eat and read and study. I can choose how I am going to regard unfortunate circumstances in my life - whether I will see them as curses or opportunities (and when I can't rise to the most optimistic viewpoint...I can choose to keep trying to change my outlook). I can choose my words and the tone of voice in which I speak to others. And most of all I can choose my thoughts."

I once heard a prayer that goes like this, "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” I know that I can not change the personality that I was given but through God's strength I can learn to stumble instead of plummit. I tell myself, "Le acque della baia mio è mio" (The waters of my bay are mine).