As of late, I’ve been suffering from a constant state of vertigo.  It’s just starting to go away, which is great.  It’s unlike any sensation I’ve ever experienced before.  It’s a dizzy, falling, sideways, spin.  It’s wild.  Like coming off a rollercoaster.  (I don’t like rollercoasters).

Just as my body wants to be pulled down, I am aching to live again.  I am convinced, after all these years of experiencing the same thing, that the winter brings me down.  I hate to think that a silly thing like sun (Vitamin D is so silly, right?) would affect me so, but it’s true.  Sun brings life.  Even though it has been snowing in Seattle within the past week, I can feel my winter blues beginning to melt away.

I was reading “The Unbearable Lightness of Being” by Milan Kundera last week, and came upon this passage:

Anyone whose goal is “something higher” must expect someday to suffer vertigo.  What is vertigo? Fear of falling? Then why do we feel it even when the observation tower comes equipped with a sturdy handrail? No, vertigo is something other than the fear of falling.  It is the voice of the emptiness below us which tempts and lures us, it is the desire to fall, against which, terrified, we defend ourselves.