Monday, May 3, 2010


Nature . 自然 . Sea . Solitude (Les Eaux Noires)
Originally uploaded by

Inspiration. I don't have it.

I started out my day well. I went into the office to finish up the job application and supplemental responses to the questions asked of each applicant for the job in San Diego. I still can't believe that I am moving forward with this. Maybe nothing will come of it for awhile, but maybe it will.

I spoke to my mother in law tonight about my planned move. I wasn't looking forward to this conversation, as she is the only reason staying here has some bearing. Nothing else seems to tie me to the life I enjoyed prior to that day almost eight months ago.

I have gone from feeling the depths of despair during the past few weeks, to feeling somewhat blank, and empty today. It was another afternoon and evening of sitting, waiting for time to pass.

I worked a little in my garden this afternoon, but it wasn't the same type of nurturing care that I usually afford it. It felt more like an exercise in futility. Part of my agenda was to try to figure out why the garden lights are not working. I also unwrapped a new water pump I had ordered for my fountain, and quickly realized that I had ordered the wrong part. So now as I sit here in bed looking out my window I see nothing, and hear nothing. The space that once was an evening oasis, is now nothing but solid darkness. There is no Buddha sitting mindfully in the corner, surrounded by various flowering plants, or the babbling sound of the fountain to his side. There is just blank emptiness. It may as well be a mirror, casting the harsh reflection of my reality.

There is one soft light flickering across my room. One small candle glowing peacefully against Michael's urn. This gives me comfort. This gives me a moments peace. But does it inspire me? Does it infuse me with life? No. But it does give me a sense of his presence. I'll take what I can get.


  1. that's all you can do. sometimes simply breathing is a big accomplishment. one moment at a time. i know grief has its ups and downs. but a lot of times it is simply a drawn-out, mind-numbing road that curls like smoke as it wraps around and through your life and all you can do is keep going. keep going, Dan. i so look forward to meeting you in August.

  2. It has taken a pretty long time for me to begin to care about anything anymore. I've always been the kind of person who enjoyed doing many things. Most of my interests went right out the window when Don became ill, and after he died, my interest in almost everything died with him. I'm just beginning to start to take an interest in some of the things that once seemed important to me. I'm still not "there" yet -- actually quite far from it -- but things are gradually improving. I don't think this is something you rush, but it may be that there are ways of tweaking an interest. Last year, I could not make myself get out my camera gear, which was pretty pathetic for someone who used to shoot a couple of hundred photos of insects every day. When I went south for the winter, a friend made these marvelous woodcarvings and had never had anyone photograph them, so I did it just because I wanted to do it for him. That was the first thing that I actually got into doing - and it was't really for me at all, but for someone else as I thought he should really have photos of his work. Maybe when we can't come up with something to care about -- or to do for ourselves -- it is easier to find something to do for someone else. Just a theory.