Post-Parting Depression

Reality is settling back in. Vienna already seems like a dream of long ago, rather than a place I was walking in just a few days ago. Was the dancing at dinner the first night? Or the second? Which hotel had the parrots? Where was that awesome dark beer again?

And yet – I know it was real. I have pictures to prove it. I’ve started to go through them, organize them, post them to Flickr in some kind of rational order. I’d really rather be home doing that, to be honest, than sitting here in the office in New York, wishing I had somebody to go to lunch with.

A friend pointed out in a comment that we can’t live on the mountaintop; we have to bring the light we find there back down into the day-to-day world. I’m reminded of Peter, a couple weeks ago in the readings for Transfiguration: “Lord, it’s good to be here – let’s pitch a tent and stay!”

But that wasn’t God’s intent, when he came and pitched his tent with us. He came to where we live – in the dark and the dirt; in the dull, dry routine of every-day; in the hurt, in the pain, in the confusion. He didn’t come so we could all camp on the mountain; he came to bring the mountain light down into the valleys.

And it is good to be back in the familiar – being awakened by a purring cat at 4:30 in the morning, demanding cuddle time; navigating the insanity of Penn Station at rush hour; catching up on e-mail and finding out what’s been going on in the world while we’ve been somewhat outside it.

The trick is to bring that joy, that wonder, that openness to the beauty of the whole created universe back into the every-day, and let it infuse even the most mundane and ordinary tasks. It isn’t easy, but it’s worth doing.