The Underworld

It's been a dark Winter.  And I've been journeying down into it.  I feel like Orpheus. traveling into my underworld , not so much in hope of finding Gil and bringing him back with me, but in hope of finding my desire to live, my energy, my passion for    anything,  a project, an idea even a recipe.    I'm walking in the dark and can't find my spark.  In the past I would have stomped my foot at myself and said "snap out of it! You have (sibs, husbands, kids) to take care of! Pull up your socks Ms Page!"  but now, I'm letting go and sliding down into it.  Depression? Probably, but I sense I need to go down into it to find whatever will make me want to live again.    Unlike Orpheus, I hope I will sense it's presence and be able to guide it gently back to the surface without losing it by trying to grasp it.  And perhaps there the metaphor ends.  Even my love of words can't save me now.   It wouldn't be a hero's journey if the end were clear or certain.