| Issue #35, November 24, 2006 |
Inspirations by Emily J Weitz
Depression the Temptress
Gray clouds blanket a sky that somewhere, presumably, is blue. Trees
tremble and drop their leaves while the blustery winds roll in off the
nippy whitecaps. As November finally shows us its true colors, a long,
lonely winter looms.
In a place as isolated as Montauk is in winter, it’s easy to slip blindly into an icy pool of solitude. And this solitude is often accompanied by a seductive, faceless lady named depression. She is a tricky one, indulging you in her inactivity and keeping you close with her convenience. In those quiet months, it is tempting to crawl into her roomy arms and spend days and weeks alone with her. She asks nothing of you; only that you stay. She gives herself so fully that she swallows you up, and you soon forget that there was a world before her. She is wicked, and she feeds on your happiness and well-being. It is imperative that you start to arm yourself against her seduction now, because she comes on strong, and she is beautiful, all draped in gray, dipping her toes in the winter waves. You must approach her from a certain angle, so that you may enjoy the quiet beaches and the rough waters instead of accepting them as the motifs of your sad story.
It is beautiful out here in winter, and standing solitary on a snowy beach can be as joyful as it is saddening, if you remind yourself that true happiness comes from within. The key to enjoying that happiness? Okay, so there’s no one else on the beach. You can still dance in and out of waves! In fact, you can dance even harder, and sing your heart out too, now that there’s no one around to judge you. Basking in the very moment that seemed daunting or lonely can give you the truest liberation. So, when you are walking one winter day, and you look down the long stretch of beach to see nothing but a lone figure in the distance, try turning up the corners of your lips instead of dabbing your eyes. Try thinking to yourself, “how beautiful and strong that figure is” rather than “how beautiful and weak.” A slight adjustment in the way you see the world can help keep Ms. Depression at bay.
It helps to resist the impulse of feeling abandoned as the population dwindles, and to feel more akin to the select few who get to stay. There is always available parking, restaurant week, and your private beaches, assets that summer people would kill for (frighteningly, that really might be true). Your calm, tranquil evenings and your crackling fire make winter a time of recharging the batteries, a time of rejuvenation.
I’ve always found it can be enticing to bask in the downsides, but I’ve learned that the rewards of sadness are not nearly as romantic as they seemed when Winona Ryder spoke about how “Reality Bit” or when Picasso painted his blue violins. The rewards of depression are not full-length feature films or immortality in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. So instead of basking in the romanticism of the sadness, I urge you to take the happy road this year. When you approach the temptress at the water’s edge, how do you choose to see her?
This year, December can be dotted with red wine evenings at Babette’s. January can find you sipping saketinis at Bamboo. And February, threatening February, can have joyful karaoke nights at Almondito. As Thanksgiving comes and goes, closing the door on the gateway season and ushering winter into our homes with the smell of pine needles and crackling fires, we have a choice. Shall we be tempted by depression in her sexy black cloak? Or shall we prance over snowdrifts and take to solitary beaches, resisting the urge to be lonely and embracing the stark naked beauty of this place when it really belongs to us? I choose joy this year. I choose to laugh my way towards springtime.
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