Whatcha-gonna-do with those blues?
Maybe your holidays required endurance. Or avoidance. Now 2016 beckons and you—or those you care about—feel steamrolled by loss: a loved one, a relationship, health, home, transportation, or job.
Worry keeps you awake. Or you’re feeling down without knowing why.
The blues blunt our sensibilities.
They tear at our soul—sometimes jagged, other times, numbing.
They crowd our thoughts and cloud our judgment.
Blues Therapy, of Old
Words attributed to King David say, “I will listen to a proverb; I will express my riddle on the harp.“* King James renders it this way: “I will open my dark saying upon the harp.”
That semi-colon bridges two thoughts. Or, as Merriam-Webster says, “co-ordinates the function between two independent clauses.”
David’s open to hearing wisdom. He must also defuse devastation.
1. Proverbs: take 2, they’re small
If I keep a green bough in my heart, the singing bird will come (Chinese proverb).
He who refreshes others will himself be refreshed (Prov. 11:25).
Being forgetful, I write wise sayings on sticky notes, post these on mirror and desk, dashboard and fridge.
Can I somehow embody wisdom?
Wearing green subtly reminds me spring follows winter, and even lingering blues grow my soul.
Distracting myself eases my blues. I do something to refresh another person, or I walk our dog, or tend the plants and my mood lifts. The plants thank me by thriving, the dog wags himself silly.
The harp verse in Psalm 49 suggests that King David roused himself with proverbs—a go-to remedy. Except when it didn’t work.
2. Make something of it
David also used his hands to express what baffled him. Buffaloed him. From resonant harp strings, stretched across wood, his lament arose. Anger. Frustration. A drawn-out sigh.
Strings resound when plucked partly because they’re under tremendous tension. They’re already in sympathy with us(!), these strings made of gut.
Twenty years ago, enduring severe clinical depression after my father’s death, I let dozens of houseplants die. Too stricken to think, much less pray or play or sing, my guitar stayed in its case.
Busy hands are happy hands haunted me—one of my mother’s proverbs.
I said “Uncle.” Watered the plants, wrote in my journal. Counseling helped, as did anti-depressants.
I started writing poetry, to process my loss.
My breakthrough? Calligraphy class. Stroke by stroke, I focused on forming each letter of the alphabet. I partnered with movement: the simple, learned grace of it.
I lettered my dark sayings, or “riddle,” with ink and pen. I lettered upbeat proverbs. Still bewildered, now I had something to show for it.
To do this intricate work, I had to keep my eyes on the page.
3. Looking up
On days I let the blues rule, my gaze glues itself to my shoes, and everything slumps. Lifting my head and allowing the body to naturally realign itself jumpstarts relief. As does a walk outdoors.
Blues: there are so many shades when we look around us, or up at the sky. I make up new names for them:
Baby J Eyes, Glacial-lake Jade, April Rain. 
Here’s a poem you might like, from my book, Where the Sky Opens.
Blue as Devotion
Some love this world like a secret,
a promise, a sacred tease:
500 shades of blue—sea glass or sky,
kingfisher, cobalt, moonlight. Cool hues
play the rogue, retreat from our squint
while come-hithering, numinous
as the quiet splice of shadows and twilight,
fickle as evening tide’s invocation,
every ebbing, a benediction.
How many ways can one soul taste
what perfumes the mind,
be it jasmine, waterfall, pain?
Scent, you are memory’s journey mate.
Time frays, like next week’s vapor trail,
the past unspools, and earth lovers
wait, gazing upward.
Please share what works for you when the blues move in . . .
May I ask a favor? If this post speaks to you, would you consider sharing it with others? Thanks!
*Psalm 49:4 (NAS)
What do I do when the blues color my mood? I bake! And often share the goodies with someone who may have reasons far worse than my own to feel gloomy.
Baking, oh yes! Fill the house with fragrance, nibble dough if you dare (I do), share the sweetness. Feeling the urge to flick on the oven and beat some butter with brown sugar . . . 🙂
This is beautiful and encouraging. I’ve been dealing with some winter blues the last two days. I started 2016 all gung ho with visions and dreams of all that would happen this year, and now the cold weather has seeped into my bones, and my car won’t start, and I really needed something to encourage me. This article and the beautiful photography has helped. Thank you Laurie!
Barbara, I’m so glad you found a lift here. Thanks for telling me. I see that you write, so you know how much a comment means. 🙂 May things turn around soon with your car, and may new warmth suffuse and envelop you, bone-deep!
Laurie I love your writing. I was especially delighted when I read (well the whole blog) but especially Proverbs: Take 2, they’re small. You have a profound gift with the English language and you also offer comfort. Thanks.
Judith, these words mean so much coming from you, amazing woman, journalist, teacher, artist. To be an agent of comfort satisfies something deep in the soul, something I don’t have a name for, but your words tell me I’m on the right track. Thank you, friend and mentor.
This is beautiful. Your poem and the whole post. So practical too. Yes! I saw the sky dancer! Thank you. I’m sure you are helping lots of people, especially in these winter days when blues can thrive.
Jacqueline, your words are a gift to me this evening. Thank you! Beauty and practicality, oh, isn’t that meat and wine for the mind and soul. Believing with you that as we live it, we give it . . .
Thank you for your heart-felt words, beautiful poem, and contemplative photograhs. What helps me is accepting my truth, that having the blues is a big part of my life. It allows me to connect more deeply with others, but it is also isolating. Connecting with others who accept me as I am helps. Writing in my journal, and being part of a poetry writing
group helps me find the value in being who I am. Hearing how you navigate these moments inspires and encourages me to be true to myself.
Hi Barbara, so good to hear from you! Your self-acceptance and strategies go right to the heart of it—embracing your chemistry, your natural empathy and resulting connections with others, and the way this dances with isolation, the ongoing balance of community and solitude. It sounds like you’ve found your sea legs in this, and understand life-giving rhythms. How great to be part of a poetry writing group—that priceless connection with kindred spirits. Rejoicing with you!
Laurie, dear – I remember the death of your father, and I understand your grief as I share your feelings of loss. For years I’ve dealt with the Ides of April, with the sudden death of my mother on the 4th and my Bill onthe 10th. Seeing green and the promise of Spring helps chase the blues, but they do test the soul. Bless your heart for sharing. I’m going to pay better attention to your antidotes .
Susie, thank you for your kind words and comfort. They are a gift. It’s moving to hear from someone else who misses my dad. As to your Ides of April, I cannot imagine the shock and life-rending grief—a tsunami of sorrow. And then the remembrance, year after year. I am writing a note in my calendar to keep you in mind and prayer this April.
Laurie, what a gift you so humbly share with others, opening up your own pain, struggles and very blessed soul!
I will share this with my sister! I only wish I could find something that she could “hook” into to lift her head from her feet to the open blue sky.
Mary Ann, thank you so much for reading and leaving a comment, especially such a loving, encouraging comment. Thinking of your dear sister as I type, hoping to see her again soon. What a gift you are to her! And to me!
The cadence and sound of these words….oh my!
“On days I let the blues rule, my gaze glues itself to my shoes, and everything slumps.”
Your poetry is a delight to read out loud…I’m so looking forward to your book!
Jody, you are endlessly encouraging to this writer’s soul, and to so many others’, as well. Thank you!
Focusing outward is my therapy. I guess a combo of #2 and #3. I call my attention to look for how I can encourage and help others in need. In the process my worries seem small and my spirits lift with the joy of being a conduit of God’s love.
Dear Deanna, I love this sentence: “In the process (and it is just that, isn’t it) my worries seem small and my spirits lift with the joy of being a conduit of God’s love.” The heart of it all. Thank you for crystallizing it so beautifully. See you tomorrow, I hope!
Bring attentive to my feelings helps defuse them. Connecting w another so I don’t feel alone is good. Sometimes a person w skin helps me see God when I can’t. Journaling gives added insight. And yes anti-depressants help too. I lived in the psalms after my brother died 10 years ago. Today have would have been 60. So feeling the feelings knowing these kinds of days do that. Thanking God he was in my life for 49 years.
Dear Carol, I ache along with you on this, your day of remembrance. And I admire your resolute gratitude in the midst of missing your brother so much. I lost my brother a couple years ago and, like you, feel grateful and glad for the time we had together. Mine would have been 61, a few weeks ago. So this is something else we share, you and I. And the psalms! I rewrote every one of them, substituting personal details wherever I could, after Dad died. I love what you share about connecting with a person with skin. So so true. All your methods speak to me. Thank you for sharing them!