Today during my commute to work I saw a row of seedlings growing in the crack between the car in front of me’s back window and its trunk.

Over the next few seconds, I had several reactions:

1) Ew. You are gross. Clean your car.
(the irony of me saying this while piloting Nora is not lost on me)

2) Life finds a way …

3) Those seedlings are dumb. Don’t they know there’s no hope for them? Don’t they know that there’s not enough food in the dirt packed into that crack to keep them all alive? Don’t they know that the first time it rains hard or the owners of that car drive really fast or THEY OPEN THEIR [insert expletive of your choice] TRUNK the entire ecosystem is going to be ripped apart?

The anger I felt at those little plants caught me off guard. I knew that I had been feeling all the telltale signs that I was slipping into a Depressive episode, but the fact that I saw them not as inspiring or beautiful, but as doomed and stupid said more to me than when I decided to go to bed hours earlier than usual last night simply because I didn’t want to think about anything anymore. More than the ten minutes I spent standing in the shower this morning, willing myself to keep moving. More than the way I keep ignoring audition notices. More than deciding not to see one of my favorite movies in 70mm because the idea of it stresses me out. More than the way every action I take has been a decision lately. Nothing spontaneously happens. It’s all an effort.

So, here’s to those stupid little seedlings. Thank you for reminding me that even though this funk feels like it’s going to last forever; it isn’t. That in a week or maybe a month I’ll be staring agape at Oregon’s beautiful sunsets, planning trips to climb mountains, and reveling in the simple joy of pushing my body to go faster and farther than it has before.

You are pretty stupid, though.