These days, I seem to have a little more time on my hands because (A) there's a pandemic out there and (B) my main work computer is not working. Effectively, I have less time to be *doing* and more time for just *being.*

I suppose that can be good *or* bad, given there are still bills to be paid...

Earlier today, I found myself gazing absent-mindedly out of the window at the now bare trees silhoeutted against a winter sky. Somehow, that view reminded me of childhood... when I'd also end up sitting in various places, looking at bare tree branches in the fading light. 


![095-Sky-Jealousy.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmWgLz2bTQrJGQZeogUpoJcFevwyPW2LsmwPwtPpP6xMqu/095-Sky-Jealousy.jpg)


Back then, I spent a lot of time by myself because we moved around so much and so often... that I was mostly home schooled, and we seldom lived in any one place for long enough that I would make many friends. I learned to occupy myself, even if not exactly *entertain* myself.

A lot of the time, I would just *sit there* and look into space, often wishing I were somewhere else. But *where?* When I think back on my life at ages nine to about thirteen, I recall that I didn't have any particular place in mind... I just wanted to be *somewhere else.*

I can't honestly say what I believed would *be* there... other than perhaps *more possibilities.* 


![095-Sunset-Jealousy.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmP6KfJQHk76h3vLaf3CouEYs42EMTdWq7b5oZbdymNkoJ/095-Sunset-Jealousy.jpg)


Now, don't get me wrong: I did *not* grow up with abusive parents, nor was I ever in danger, or getting beaten or anything like that. Mostly, I just felt a great sense of *emptiness;* a feeling that mostly went with having *an absence of content* in my young life.

For no particular reason, I grew fascinated by the sight of bare tree branches against a dusky sky. There was something *stark* and *naked* about them that I could relate to. Sure, they were living and healthy trees, but *at that moment* it felt like they were *without.* And it felt familiar; *comforting,* even.


![277-New-Sunset-140730b.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmXLUQnRRttnfEFWeHwZEUHiA8aAW2fVb3dyyPB65n3MZV/277-New-Sunset-140730b.jpg)


In some ways, I credit my love of nature photography to those childhood years... they taught me to really *observe* and truly *see* what was around me. Of course, most of this predated the invention of digital cameras, so most of the *"images"* would stay purely in my head because film was too expensive for a teenager.

I have often been asked where my *"edge"* of *sadness* comes from, and I can't honestly tell you. I think I was *born* with it; but I am by no means what the mental health profession calls *"clinically depressed."* Most likely, I am simply an example of what psychologist C.G. Jung termed *"The Melancholic Temperament."*

This post is a little different from my usual *"fare"* here, perhaps making a return to the kind of *personal blogging and journaling* I often engaged in when I had more time on my hands. Whether it will continue, I don't know.

For the moment, it simply *IS*, much like the person behind the words.

Thanks for reading!

***As always, comments, feedback and other interaction is invited and welcomed! Because — after all — SOCIAL content is about interacting, right? Leave a comment — share your experiences — be part of the conversation!***

***(All text and images by the author, unless otherwise credited. This is ORIGINAL CONTENT, created expressly for this platform — NOT A CROSSPOST!!!)
Created at 20201203 18:37 PST
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