It amazes me just how quickly the time has passed, from Midwinter six weeks ago, to Imbolc, now. And it'd been a loooong six weeks before that. So has anything changed? I still have much the same problems that I had before -- lack of money, computers that break down and a car that's still off the road.

And yet I don't feel half as down and out as I did at Midwinter. Back then the best I could do was acknowledge that I was alive. Not a good spot to be in. And now? Well maybe I'm *not* on top of the world, feeling great with everything, but maybe too I'm no longer skipping along the surface of the pond like a thrown pebble, waiting for the motion to cease and then to sink.

Don't know how long this will last, but I do know I feel better for it. And maybe I'm starting to climb out of a hole that's been a really bad bout of depression. Can't say I did it alone -- in truth I had a lot of help, from friends, from a new GP, from counsellors, and from total strangers even. And sometimes just a little effort, just a little help, makes a big difference.

Some time ago a friend told me that black dog would come off the street to live at my home. At the time I didn't really know what they meant. But now I do. This "black dog" of depression's been "dogging" me for quite some time. Maybe this is the start of obedience training for it. maybe.

You can tell it's spring again. The dry winter here's starting to turn to a warm mushy wetness. The birds are starting sing, some of my ducks are thinking of nesting, and the Jehovah's Witnesses have started to call. There were two of them today, who turned up just as I was about to do some gardening out the back.

"Aren't you worried about the future?" one of them asked. I had to reply that for once I wasn't, that I'd take what comes, and I meant it.

Yesterday I rode my bicycle to the library and post office in Edgeworth, then up to the library at Wallsend (via the tracks through Gretley Colliery) then down to Cardiff for some dog bones and money from the bank. It was a long trip for me because I'm still out of shape, and I felt absolutely buggered by the time I got home. But I felt good too, because I felt I'd made a problem (no car) into a bit of fun (exhausting myself). A small thing I know, but if I can keep going at this rate, I know I'll be OK.

Better to light a candle (no matter how small) than curse the night.

I almost didn't do a musing this time around. Back at the last Sahmain, both my computers were two days dead (one has been semi-resurrected since then), a friend was suicidal and my car was a few days away from major complications.

And it's been six weeks since then. In the mean time I've been both broke and suicidal (craft knives are the best aren't they?). I've let go of an "ICQ romance" and written to my dying father. I've missed what seemed important dates (local Goth clubs, rituals and Church gigs) for lack of money or transport. I've been effectively off the net until now, but I'm also off my anti-depressants too (maybe for good).

Things could have been better. Things could have been worse. I still have my house, my pets, most of my health and sometimes my sanity. Help came in unexpected ways, as did fun too. And I've made new friends and contacts at places like "The Octapod" and elsewhere.

And maybe there's been something stubborn in my character that resists change, and it takes a lot to force me to accept it, even if such change is for the better. Last Monday I got a "job card" from Centrelink and am considering rehabilitation. Yesterday I went to budget counselling, which showed that on average I lose $20 a fortnight. I could have told them that, but somehow I need to turn this around, to get back out of the hole.

Ah, life. Tough sometimes, but it'd be boring otherwise. And tonight is so cold. Into bed by 9pm with cats and dog huddled on top. The shortest day of the year was also the coldest.

And maybe this time around, who cares what the "meaning" of the Winter Solstice "really" is. Maybe this time around it's time to give thanks not for where I've been, but for where I am, and where I might go.

How's that for some musings. Shortest yet.

After going with some other Goths to watch "Queen of the damned" on Friday night, I went down to Sydney Saturday night to go out with Jayne (a friend whose rituals I've attended in the past). We were supposed to see a band in a pub somewhere in Darlinghurst. I went down with another friend of mine, Maz.

It was a long trip down in the car, I was tired and late when I got there. We got lost on the way because we were given the wrong street name, and I got lost on the way back as well (Sydney isn't my city). I was tired and more than a bit cranky. I crashed fairly shortly when we got back to Jayne's. The others (including Jayne's brother) stayed up and swapped tarot readings.

Come Sunday morning I was the first awake at 7am, and I couldn't get back to sleep (party because of someone else's snoring). Everyone else woke about 11am, and there was no rush to do anything. I was feeling drawn out, as lately I've only been having one proper meal a day, and that one in the morning. I was also feeling pretty low, being under a bit of stress with money problems. I also had a strange premonition that one of my pets would die in the coming week.

Anyway, I was playing around with a "Bird Tarot" deck and the responses I was getting just seemed to match my fears, and I just "lost it". Not an infrequent occurrence for me. I go so long by myself, worrying about things and becoming physically exhausted, and then I tend to collapse a bit. Just how much depends upon how hard I push myself.

This was mostly a crying session, and I just couldn't stop. Finally though, I did. Maz and Jayne organised a small circle for me to send a bit of energy my way. At first I couldn't think of anything to say, but when it came around to me again I just let myself go...

...and started talking in a language I wasn't familiar with! The only word I recognised was "shibele" which might have been a version of Cybele, I don't know. And then I had a vision of a ball of power with an every increasing spiral of energy around it. Then I opened my eyes and there was a jolt which everyone in the circle felt.

I felt a better after the (though I felt a LOT better when I had something to eat), and later after I'd returned back home I was a bit more relaxed as well.

Anyway, just a short while ago I found Donald (one of my original Muscovy ducks) dead in her pen. She was in a sleeping position, in the corner. I took her out, and buried her under the "Air" flagstone of my circle. I performed a small ritual with a candle to commemorate the occasion.

Sounds a bit silly having a funeral for a duck I suppose but I was close to that duck. When she was just a duckling I found her floating upside down in the water bowl, half drowned. I took her inside, said more than just a few prayers to Hecate, and passed on what I could of my energy. She recovered and grew to maturity, laying at least two batches of eggs that grew to ducklings.

Last week like Mongo (a young drake) jumped on Donald (she was named before she was sexed) in the bathtub. She was pushed under the waterline and just laid in the tub, stunned. This time maybe she was shock. She was waterlogged and cold, as it was still morning, so I grabbed her and placed her in the sun, saying a prayer that she'd live a little longer. It took the rest of the day for her to recover, but she did.

And now she's gone. I've cried a lot just now, and will cry again. So it goes.