Update # Whatever.

Since I haven’t posted for a week I thought it incumbent on me to inform those few rare and distant people who still read this blog that I remain in this world but not of it.

Too much waking at various hours of the night and morning wracked with a sense that something awful is happening, or has recently happened, or is about to happen. Too much feeling cold inside the house and outside it. Too much awareness of health issues ranging from the merely uncomfortable to the downright hazardous. Too many dark skies, and too many reasons to feel confined in a state of trepidation so insistent as to pollute the lighter and finer feelings which occasionally seek to present themselves. Result: a level of ennui sufficient to preclude the kind of rambling habit to which I’m normally attracted.

Nothing new here. This happens occasionally (especially in January, I’ve noticed.) It’s probably some sort of routine psychological condition to which sensitive people are prey and therefore nothing to worry about. I expect it will pass eventually because it usually does.

And one thing did occur to me today which might permit a brief ramble.

I’ve heard it said that both INFJs and those whose path is essentially spiritual in construction – both of which appear to apply to me – are driven by their natures to be routinely alone. This is because the kind of people with whom they can connect are very rare and therefore rarely found. Do you realise what that means?

It means that when we do form a connection with somebody, that connection is so precious that it becomes elevated to a monomania. And if the object of that connection chooses to leave our orbit, the resultant space in our psyche is profoundly bitter. It’s true. It happens.

I expect I’ll be back eventually because the empty evenings are becoming tedious. Buffy has gone now.