Psalm 13 cont'd: crossing the line

Psalm 13. Mmm. I was musing further on it and thinking how in representing it, I've given a much bigger space to the last two verses of  'my heart rejoices' than to the first four verses of crying out 'How long will you hide your face?' Was this deliberate? I think it was a case of my hand telling me what is going on inside me, and thankfully it tells me that my life is more joy than of anguish. I feel for any bi-polar-ish person for whom the opposite is the case.

A friend spoke about how the cloud of the first 4 verses can suddenly lift all  by itself, or sometimes by the help of a friend's word or understanding, and she wondered about the theological basis for it. It made me think about how my exegesis of this psalm started with a theological or liturgical understanding - the possibility of the psalmist receiving assurance of God's presence or help - and ended with treating the move as a psychological one. I suppose biological things have to be added to the list of things that can lift that cloud, or make one cross that yellow line of satin-stitching in the cloth version; I remember a very sudden experience like that when expecting our Jez, how I experienced a very dramatic mood-lift, which I knew was heralding the onset of labour, and I rollocked about the place, going for fast walks, and playing the piano with great gusto, and never mind that bit about packing a bag, it didn't seem to matter. If I could bottle that hormone, I'd make a fortune!

Typing stops, as I try to fathom out whether crossing that line is something one can make happen oneself; if only! Sometimes it seems to be just a matter of time, of waiting patiently and trusting that it has happened before and will happen again. (Crikey - it is all in the psalms, isn't it? Psalm 40:1 etc 'I waited patiently for the Lord; and he inclined to me and heard my cry.... he hath put a new song into my mouth...) King Saul, who seems to be one of the Bible's depressives, seems to have used the young David's music to help. If you would like to meet more companions who would nod vigorously to Ps 13:1-4, then just Google for 'accidie' where you will find explanations such as this:
http://mindyourmaker.wordpress.com/2008/10/03/aldous-huxley-on-accidie-aka-melancholy-boredom-ennui-despair/ 
including the idea that this kind of melancholy can be caused by  a demon that has the audacity to walk about in the daytime, unlike most other demons. There's an awful lot of writing on the subject! It's rather good that the psalmist tackles it in this very succinct way, as I don't think  it's a good thing to dwell on it for long. The good old psalmist, who by Psalm 15 (maybe) has us setting off on pilgrimage, where you just have to get on with life; and surely (my mind runs on) making 'stories' (as in 'dismal') rhyme with 'more is' (as in 'his strength the') is surely one of the great rhymes of all time. (See http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HbNbXxQwFws It's not the camino, but I tell 'ee, tha'll like it.) That and 'I will smite 'em - ad infinitum' (Jonah man Jazz: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OZX54yRc-kE  (Ah, the nostaliga! I know it word-for-word!)

But God has made us with our moods - this might be the theological angle - and I'm sure that the right way forward is for us to put them to use... I really believe this....

and so to move to something that I must have done in a Ps. 13:5-6 mood, which is my desk. It's just a plain IKEA thing that I hunted down when I wanted something to spread out on. It was plain when I got it, but then it needed sealing, and so I decided that it needed a little design on it too. I was teaching at the time, in about 1999, and reading up on the apocalyptic literature of the Old Testament etc, and I was alerted to a distinction between two kinds of apocalypse: the 'vertical apocalypse' in which 'the "secrets" of the cosmos are made known', and the 'horizontal' or historical apocalypse which is a 'survey of history often leading to an eschatological crisis in which the cosmic powers of evil are destroyed.' (D.S Russell in Metzger & Coogan's Oxford Companion to the Bible). Somehow I got fixated on the first one, the idea of an otherwordly journey, and the desk started to look like a flying carpet. I'm used to it now, but at first I could only use it by covering it all over with books, as it was a bit... de trop. But now I love it, and it is growing old with me. Its slim silvery tapering legs only add to my feeling that it's going to take off at any time.(Oh crikey, where is this blog going???) Come with me!