Under this mud

deep in the Earth

a core keeps some apple seed

and in me.

Mom says Ruth Sheriff wrote better at night with strange little snacks like these to keep her stoked. Our refrigerator harbors abundant cabbage, kale, and raddichio. I chose the raddichio feeling sorry for the head, left behind by time, almost forgotten. Peel off the outer layers until it stops being miserable, then I find some perky parts. Cut up the innards. Sizzle the olive oil. Drop in the red plant, add the salt. First time I cooked with raddichio, this same head, left something to be desired. A food best cooked, I left out that part. My slap dash cooking style reflects my inspiration. I am blessed when I find people who appreciate it, my art, my writing. Well, my writing is a bit more measured sometimes, not always. Everything is an exertion of exuberance. Let's say that is the currency of life. Cooking an evening mini meal might take 44 exuberance rupees. They can multiply and grow. They can come depleted. The exact same activity, cooking, can rob you or grow your exuberance rupees. The first time I prepared raddichio, I put it in a salad, then picked it out of the salad. Reading helps. Reading about ingredients that are new to us. So tonight, Mom was right, something in this chicory raddichio amplified my inspiration. These are the facts. As bitter as it tasted, it has the same effects as coffee. Some hippies don't know the difference, but it is this cabbage like Italian plant that has the spike, not the little blue late summer flowers.

For a while my writing was zapped. I wondered why, but I figured it was depression. Probably true. Writing is just like cooking. A poem could take 31 exuberance rupees, but it can just make you more inclined to write. Or it can make you want to stick your head under a pillow and hide from words and letters. Sketching and painting, I guess that will be 41 and 53 rupees respectively. The thing about the money of inspiration, of life, it is so elastic. So few are maybe aware of the currency in the first place perhaps because when you think about the same thing having either negative or positive effects for no good reason explainable, none of it makes much sense. Ruth Sheriff was this incredible journalist friend of my mother's. Probably worth iconizing and I have this incredible belt she wore. So I can put it on when I write at night when my mind turns on with ideas spurred by some cabbage looking vegetable. My head has been doing little sketches for a long time. My head has a way of raining when it rains and droughts are available as anything, but more related to my mental wellness than anything else. I guess things are looking up. This is my breakthrough. Let it rain!

The way forward through darkness is often more darkness. The light doesn't turn on when you realize it would be nice to have a light. Sometimes that moment might be realizing gratitude is the key. But that realization is not enough. You must wake thinking this I am grateful for this life. You must think these thoughts even when there is just a flicker of truth in any of it. Or maybe it just hurts. You convince the pain away. You convince the truth to ignite in beauty. You bend and shift the truth. The truth becomes your friend. You hold its little hand and walk together up the sunny shore.

So this is what has been happening in more plot heavy terms. I officially decided no grad school this year. I am thinking I just will never go. The costs seem crazy for the fact I am not much of a work person. I mean my work lately has been relaxing as hard as I can. I really believe in relaxing. I am reading an Audio book to learn more about it as a science. My peers wear themselves thin with their work, but I have a real disability and I should have the right to enjoy its peace. So I attempt to live as essentially as possible and end up living over my means the beginning of each paycheck, like many. I think it would be nice to stretch the disability check a little more, a goal worthy, though I am not beating myself up because it really is not much.

Can someone fix the darkness?

I don't know.

You wait through it.

Then in the darkest moment, it dawns.