Each one of us houses a Slump now and then. So comes a lack of energy and other eccentricities for the home. Seasonal change unbolts the door, or heavy winds make rubble out of wall. Such entrances seem to be, at best, a partial contribution. It’s the headwind that forces through, that throws around bookcases, that unveils cockroach dens hidden within one’s valuable displays. With the home’s warmth lost, its values tarnished, so our visitor takes residence.
Deep in the home’s basement there’s a furnace waiting for ignition. But not just from any flint. Only the overflowing radiance from new cares can keep the furnace alive. Broken values need to be swept out, the whole array: be it people, ideas, environments, world views and interests.
No one else will ask you to find new things to care about or why you still care about old things. It’s the one question you must wrestle with yourself as the headwind forces it on you.
It’s work. But as you gather and refine new orbs, the house breathes at once. Fire sprites spring to action – imbued brooms sweep autonomously, winged books heave up and smoothly sort into each bookcase.
So the visitor departs.
Aegroto dum anima est, spes est.