Monday is blue
A diary is akin to a treasure chest, preserving thoughts, impressions, and events from the past. It captures instants in their raw immediacy, unfiltered, much like a photograph. And unfiltered means being honest and open in their retelling. So within this chest lie not just the gleaming jewels of enthusiasm, but also the rough pebbles of disappointment. And today is such a day, a day of lows. Perhaps it’s due to being forced to do nothing, the inability to steer events; nevertheless, I should have anticipated the arrival of this wave of despondency.
Today, all I’m permitted to do is prepare, to improve my shape. Thighs, glutes, biceps. Every day pushing oneself further than what the body deems possible. Thighs, glutes, biceps. Set after set, attempting to overcome the resistance of an elastic band, even if I’m barely able to stand. And the impulse to surrender is immediate, to succumb to the fear of failure. Who’s making you do this, Marco? The siren whispers persuasively in your ear, tempting you to let go, to relinquish your shield like Archilochus, and let events unfold as they may. Thighs, glutes, biceps. And you walk in the park beneath your home, occasionally extending your strolls by five minutes, attempting to ignore the other tempting siren, soft and seductive, inviting you to rest on a bench and bask in the early rays of spring. But you’re neither Odysseus nor the fearless warrior who defiantly awaits the charge of the opposing phalanx.
So you sit. You yield. Then you recall another poet, Tyrtaeus, a Spartan from the 7th century BC, who extolled the indomitable hoplites of Sparta: ‘Let each one stand firmly planted on the ground, biting his lips with his teeth, concealing his thighs, shins, chest, and shoulders behind the vast expanse of a shield.’ And you realise that sometimes all one must do is endure, grit one’s teeth, and withstand. Embrace and acknowledge fear, rather than simply shunning it. Thighs, glutes, biceps. Endure. But not today. Today is a day of lows. It’s acceptable; one must embrace oneself, flaws and all. And besides, in just a few days, it will be Friday once more…
Friday, I’m in love (The Cure), 1992