Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe,
for the unwanted absurdities
that remind me of gold I have found
while underground.

Today the absurdity is my annual spring depression
—four Aprils in a row.
While leaves and buds expand, my world shrinks
—social anxiety, tears near the surface,
wanting more sleep, more food, more time alone.

A superficial gathering of resources will not work today.
Instead, I will sink like a submarine, slowly,
deep to treasures of a different kind,
treasures found on previous voyages through darkness:
my intrinsic wholeness and unshakeable goodness,
permission to feel without evaluating,
acceptance of a different capacity each day,
invitation to let my heart speak
and to hold its words gently.

I do not find sustenance by grasping
for sunlight at the surface,
but by accepting a descent into darkness,
knowing I will have the company
of my own kindness to myself,
a contentment in the discontent,
until my buoyancy returns
and I surface again.