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December 21, 2015 / hbrowne4

“The Worst Day” By Frank McGuinness

You could say

That every fuckin’ day

Is the Worst Day

And some do make that play.

Coming in on the bus today I checked my emails to find this quirky quotation below that intrigued me:

“The landscape of the brain….

There comes Meaning to it

And it is difficult to escape”

Have you had Worst Days? – I’ve had some nasty, noxious Worst Days with poisonous fangs that lock like a badger’s jaws and won’t let go. The jaws of the badger-snake bite deeply like only thin sharp fangs can bite – and the night is as bad as the day. Days that follow are joined in pain and despair to the first day like links on a heavy chain – or a rosary beads out of the deep.

Some time deep in the future you look back and you see not the fangs in your flesh but the marks of fangs. The Worst Day has moved on but left it’s mark. You are not quite the person you were, now more aware of your grounded body. You remember hearing somewhere that the Victorians used to take a pinch of arsenic to stimulate the constitution – and you remember the old Chinese proverb that speaks of good luck and bad luck. What looks bad can stimulate the character. And isn’t it character that we look for and see in our heroes and heroines – character more than personality? As that quotation on my phone this morning suggests, we’re in this world of creating meaning, changing meaning and if we’re lucky – escaping from meaning.

There’ll be other Worst Days coming down the tracks, but the Worst Days are in the mind. Groundedness comes to the body and the body makes character. Sure begob, aren’t we on the way to being heroes and heroines, all of us? But then begorrah, doesn’t escape from one meaning mean waking up in another – don’t the heroes and heroines run around the place in all kinds of gobsmackin’ adventures when the Best Days come, like in “Back to the Future”? Bejasus, the Chinese were right – it’s bad luck, good luck, followed by more bad luck, good luck, like a Hollywood wheel of fortune.

In a café near Chatham Street I met a friend one evening 8 or 10 years ago. Usually when we met we had stimulating conversation. We would be a reflective mirror to each other – but on this occasion there was an air of black depression. Unusually, we were both in a deep trough in our respective lives and there seemed no way out. We struggled separately and together with the abyss over coffee for two hours. Then there came a very small realization that has echoed down the years for both of us – “Keep moving…. keep moving……” Whether it’s a cup of tea or a phone call, a walk alone, a gesture to someone or a look – moving or giving up are the only options on the Worst Day or in the Worst Night. Giving up was calling loudly but the quiet whisper of Keep moving was a signal moment for us that evening. What’s worse than the Worst Day? Another Worst Day. And another, and another………………

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