Observing the lifecycle of flowers—from bloom to doom—sets the mind thinking to our own aging arc. At middle age the flower of my youth is long gone making all this time alone more intense and frightening.
Tectonic forces do their work. Ploughing their inescapable hell slowly and without discrimination. They grind—hard. Such is their subtlety as to be motionless to the eye though with a power as immovable as gravity.
We find help for our mind, body, and soul in many places. Some planned and intention, others serendipitous and seemingly sent by coincidence if not fate. It is important to avail ourselves to help, especially in the times it is most difficult to do so. And no matter how hard it gets we can always come back to our breath. It’s the one thing nothing but death can take from us.
Whether by fall or by autumn, people love this time of year. I counted myself among their number as a child, but as an adult it has not been so. This has proved a season of struggle. I seek to recapture the magic I once knew. I yearn to dance again with Autumn.
Depression is insidious. Working its way from the edges it consumes apace as it slowly devours. Photographer Greg Molyneux shares a story from his own struggles battling against mental demons, hoping it encourages others to open up and share. Together we can bring darkness to light and break the stigma of mental illness for good.