Nearly every time I go out along the Don running, or walk to the river-mouth, I see grey herons gliding over, or standing patiently in the shallows waiting for dinner to swim by. They are silent & solitary & patient & I admire them. Sometimes there are two together, a little ways apart, both up to their own thing, but still enjoying company, being silent together. I relate to their hermetic tendency, & how in Scottish and Irish stories they are associated with wisdom, & eccentricity, digging around in the muck, wading out in search of knowledge. I am stuck in the muddy reaches right now, in terms of academia. Reading endlessly, trying to write papers, learn languages, feeling overwhelmed by minutiae, wondering if anything is really meaningful or important at all, if I have anything to contribute, if there is a point to making such contributions. Wondering what I am doing here. Anxious, panic-attacking, can't think straight, but also can't stop thinking, which prevents sleeping.
So today, such crankiness & mild despair abounds. But it will pass. It's a recurrent suffering, & I know it to come & go. Right now, I'm just standing like a slightly perturbed, not-so-serene heron, poking about with my beak in the murky water, hoping to strike inspiration again.
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