I have a theory, for what it’s worth, that there are two emotional scales and we are genetically, intrinsically born to one or the other. I first began pondering this paradigm the day I realized that my good friend who constantly succumbed to bouts of depression, was just wired that way and I was not.
That’s not to say that I am better. Just different. I am fortunate, it’s true, to have been blessed with tons of seratonin from both sides of my family and that means that on one end of my personal scale I am easily tickled by the robin hop-bobbing across my grass, bemused by a clever choice of words, and likely to hum a tune while chattering aloud to the plants in my garden. But given a twist of fate or a frightful life turn of events, as I swing to the other extreme of the scale, I don’t sink into depression. I become anxious, anguished, a mass of mental turbulence.
That’s when my husband usually shouts – “Go to your room!” which refers to my meditation aerie at the top of the stairs. And he’s right, and I do, and I try to achieve, then, a semblance of serenity.
Serenity isn’t an easy state for me, and that’s not to say I have never attained a deeper meditative awareness, a spiritual poise in my lifetime, but I suspect that my friend who suffers from depression can get to that place easier than I can because serenity and depression are both points of stillness. A good quietude on the one hand and a paralysis on the other end.
The two ends of my emotional scale are all about movement – happy chirpings and murmurings on the one hand, and hand-wringing, floor pacing fear on the other. My hope for myself, is the truth that in movement there can more easily be change. In other words, an object already in movement can be nudged and re-directed on a different trajectory. An object that is static takes much more of a push to redirect.
That’s my wish for my personal attainment of happiness.
That will be two cents please.