I celebrated the beginning of winter today ( the darkest day of the year) by running 5 miles in one of the darkest places (a cemetery—of course, those who know me aren’t surprised) in less than clement conditions (chill temp 10 with a total overcast and slight flurries) just before sunset. 

With sunglasses on. 

I cherish sunlight and the Sun, but on a day like today, I thought, why not to darkness succumb?  And so I began to run.  And as I began to run, I found myself thinking cold, dark thoughts and contemplating cold dark deeds.  Feelings of being taken advantaged of, insensitively teased, and abandoned overwhelmed me.  Damn the opportunists, teasers and abandoners.  Damn them all to hell, my heart pouted.

But after the 2^nd of 7 laps, I found myself reflecting and asking myself if those feelings were really mine.  I wasn’t summarily dismissing them, but I didn’t entirely own them either.  Instead, I made a conscious self-kill decision to suspend belief altogether—not to really trust such thinking and feeling—but simply to permit their play as my entry participation into the shadowy flow of the world around me.

Interestingly enough, as my metabolism perked up (3^rd mile-4^th lap), this mental and emotional coldness—that had at first gripped me and then continued to play with me—was concomitantly transformed into a more vibrant, energetic outlook.  I started thinking about those people who need me (well, both those I know who do and others who seem to) and what I might next do to respond.  I began considering other activities I might engage in tonight, besides running, to build me up and make me stronger—blogging, not strangely, being one.  I had found the fire within. Again.  And with sunglasses on, I was all aglow. 

"Be ye lamps unto yourselves," advised the Buddha during his final sermon.  The solution exists within the inherent nature of all of us.  "Be your own confidence," he continued.  "Hold to the truth within yourselves as to the only lamp." 

(written/posted from a wifi coffeeshop on the Case Western campus, a mile from the cemetery)