London, 13 January 2023

Today, I finally saw the sun. It was one of those days with an icy blue sky, small white clouds floating swiftly, and a cool wind despite the sunshine.

I headed out and walked east, past Mile End Park, to a new corner of Bow that I had never explored before. It was surprisingly lovely, groomed, and livable. As I wandered around, I found an old cemetery that had been turned into a park. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of old graves and tombstones dating back to the early 20th or even the 19th century. All were abandoned, withered, covered in moss, and crooked, overtaken by the forest. This created a stunning and mystical atmosphere, enhanced by the pot I smoked earlier. Yellow daffodils were blossoming in January, and ironically, in a place of death, they were the most prominent sign of spring and life. I spent a while there absorbing the atmosphere, dreaming, and reflecting.

I recalled yesterday’s meditation, which spoke about a “mood tunnel” we can find ourselves in. If we see the world through the mind’s eye in a negative state, everything appears repulsive, depressing, and dark. Today, I tried to see things as they really are, and I found some beauty in this experience, in my day, and in my existence, which had become increasingly stagnant in recent weeks.

Or was it just the sunshine that triggered my endorphins and dopamine to kick in a bit more? Am I in a chemical imbalance due to the lack of light?

I stayed out until sunset, savoring every minute of daylight I could, and then returned home. It was much easier to bear the looming darkness and heavy blanket of long nights this way.

I hope I can retain some awareness of my mood tunnel. Or perhaps I can journey down another mood tunnel, one filled with weed, sunshine, and graveyards—the bright tunnel that I can fall down like a rabbit hole. I just wish the good tunnel was a bit longer and less delusional.