Black Dog

I had the black dog this morning. I don’t very often get it. But there it was this morning. There is something about lying prone which brings it on. It could be old age. It could be evolution’s device for rendering death nearer. For helping to cope with the fact of death that is. It could be anything.

We are all depressed most of the time. Don’t be fooled into thinking the truth is otherwise. We all of us cover up the hurt in one or another. In one way or another people strive for something which they think will heal the hurt; the hurt of being alive that is. It can be through religion. It can be through work …  at least work of an interesting nature … it could be through marriage & the propagation of offspring…. it could be through an in interest in art or music…  it could be… well something like sport with involves a degree of shadenfreude, especially with regard to football with all its raw tribalism.

The human race is often cited as being the most successful species on the planet. But in what sense? With all the technology & medicine & food production & culture, the fact that each individual dies even though the species itself continues maybe it is the continuation of our species which is to be celebrated. The human race has certainly taken many species with it. And now the planet is so irreparably damaged that we are going down & taking many other mammals with us. We have brought about the destruction of many other species, birds & so on.

But I digress, I had the black dog. I still have it. This is new for me. It could be old age or it be could lack of sleep. I assume that if you are old as you approach death, it is all much of a muchness. Many like to leave something behind. Myself, I am indifferent to such matters. Who knows what happens when we die. I assume that the answer is absolutely nothing. It doesn’t worry me.

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