Today marks the seventh anniversary of my mother's death; it is also two days after the third anniversary of my father's death. I felt that the timing of may parents' deaths was not a coincidence; the clocks go back, heralding five months of gloom - five months of short, dark, cold days - that deplete one of the will to live. Obviously, it's not the only factor, but it does constitute an important psychological factor when considering old people's health.
It's now half past three winter time - half past four summer time. The sun will set in just over half an hour. Today, like yesterday, has been continuously foggy. Darkness encroaches. As I wrote last year, I have found a way to limit the effects of the Hammer of Darkness - ignore the time change, go to be an hour earlier (ie. at the same time you did before the clocks went back). The only time of concern is natural time, dictated by the sun, not the clock. So rather than going to bed around 23:15, I'll be going to bed around 22:15 between now and the end of March. And then - hopefully - the clocks will go forward an hour - and stay there forever. The time change has a negative and pernicious effect on our physical and mental health.
My parents visit my dreams regularly (like here, two weeks ago). My father, in particular, has taken on metaphysical importance to me, as though his life were full of mystical messages - pointers for me to learn from. I often think about the way he was, quiet, humble, getting on with it, yet curious and blessed with great powers of observation. Avoiding extremes, he sought a middle way, a balanced path. He disliked waste and wastefulness, perhaps a reaction to wartime privations (but then others who had similar experiences reacted to them by filling their lives with pointless luxuries). Here on my działka, I have in my bookcases many of his books on science and astronomy - and a few about ancient astronauts. My father was on a lifelong quest for knowledge, seeking answers to the great questions regarding the origin of life and the unfolding of the Cosmos. He was not a loquacious man, but I felt that little escaped his purview. In a spiritual sense, I feel that his wisdom continues to be imparted to me.
I am also convinced that somewhere in Ursynów lives a boy who will experience anomalous memories of pre-war Warsaw, the Uprising, post-war London and the first two decades of the 21st century (see footnote to this post). And that boy will continue my father's quest.
This time last year:
Four days of sublime Golden Autumn
Obit
Good News
This time seven years ago:
On the death of my mother
This time eight years ago:
Marek Raczkowski on All Saints' Day
This time nine years ago:
Disclosure of UFOs - are we ready?
Jeziorki pond development
This time 11 years ago:
Captain Wrona's perfect gear-up landing
This time 14 years ago:
Where's the daylight gone?
This time 15 years ago:
All Saints' Day - Wszystkich Świętych
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