Having Weather

Nine straight days of rain finds me contemplating the vicissitudes of mood — at least when I’m not considering a tall glass of Drano. Irritation, distraction and ingratitude have settled in to roost. With the forecast calling for rain throughout the week, I doubt that this inclement mood will lift anytime soon.

Years ago, while living in one of the most Seattle-like (overcast) cities in the US, I had a supervisor who boasted that her moods were unaffected by the weather. I admired her hardiness, but knew even then that for most of us moods tend to be seasonal. She later had a “nervous breakdown” followed by a lengthy hospitalization. Last I heard, she had cleaned up and was again doing well.

Weather is a familiar metaphor for challenges, particularly about change. Greco-Roman gods deployed storms and lightning to intervene in human events. The Bible has God punishing and rewarding by means of weather. Shakespeare puts storms to extraordinarily good use in Hamlet, The Tempest, and King Lear (Should we rechristen him the Bard of bad weather?). Even the word commonly used for terrible weather conditions derives from the Latin root for sympathy: “inclement” literally means to be intemperate, harsh or unmerciful.

But it isn’t only a metaphor; weather exerts an insidious effect on mood itself. The popular composer Harold Arlen wrote many songs relating mood to weather, including Stormy Weather, When the Sun Comes Out, Ill Wind and Come Rain or Come Shine.

Links to Ella Fitzgerald, who makes these songs come alive for me, were unfortunately not available for most of these particular songs, but here’s a link to another Arlen tune with lyrics by the great Johnny Mercer.

Zen Buddhists poetically describe negative feelings as clouds passing before the sun. The sun is still there (we can still get sunburn through clouds, UV rays being impervious to the haze) but the clouds make it difficult to appreciate; soon we forget that it exists at all, identifying with the gloom. (A friend tweets that he is nostalgically remembering sun). Transient feelings thus become reified states of mind.

There are some significant differences between feelings and moods. Experientially moods last longer; but they also exert a subtle gravity on perception. Moods pull for certain kinds of information: they can alter the valence and intensity of experience. They also influence thinking and change behavior.

In her philosophical song Both Sides Now, Canadian singer songwriter Joni Mitchell describes the synergies between thinking and feeling (and weather) when she observes, “It’s cloud illusions I recall; I really don’t know clouds at all.”

What do moods and the weather have in common? Both are unstable and unpredictable; a relatively trivial similarity, but both can also influence motivation. When I’m miserable, it becomes hard to concentrate. Work is a steep climb and I resent my bosses overweening concern: she assumes any low mood heralds another bout of major depressive disorder.

Talk about the weather is the common language of interactions with strangers and acquaintances alike; an opening salvo in almost any conversational volley. It is a bid for connection; we are all affected by weather. When it’s good, we share a private nod of appreciation, when it’s lousy, most commiserate.

As an addict, I’m used to controlling my feelings with substances while allowing my behavior to run riot. Recovery reverses this process: feelings I may not like slip from my grasp, but I remain responsible for choosing how I react to them.

Although the rhythms, depth and persistence of emotions still take me by surprise, by now I have developed some tools for dealing with them. This is my hybrid approach to emotional maturity — some mindful steps — derived from what I’ve learned in the Twelve Step rooms and from various wisdom literatures (please don’t let my interpretation deter you from developing your own perspective).

1. Acknowledge what is happening without judging it.
2. Stay open to possible solutions.
3. Stop spinning your wheels controlling what defies control – let it go.
4. Examine the causes and conditions that make you feel or act this way, recognizing your responsibility for changing them. Don’t forget to acknowledge assets as well as liabilities.
5. Commit to change by telling (at least) one other person what you are discovering about yourself. Acknowledge obstacles and misgivings. Recognize that everyone has pain. Appreciate compassion; you deserve it.
6. Begin to address change by not allowing mindless habits to take hold. Detach from them – you are more than the sum of your thoughts, feelings and behaviors. Cultivate compassionate perspective and actions.
7. Ask for additional help and stay connected with healthy influences. Exercise compassion and restraint in every facet of your life.
8. Recognize the harms you have done to others either culpably or without awareness. Recognize that the way you treat others ultimately redounds upon you. Encourage love, tolerance and compassion. Develop enthusiasm for changing hurtful behaviors.
9. Change behaviors that affect others negatively. Encourage compassion in your dealings with them.
10. Review your assets and liabilities on a regular basis. Don’t judge, act. Acknowledge change.
11. Create and practice rituals that support healthy growth and purposeful living.
12. Help others, by word and by deed – expect nothing in return. Celebrate growth; avoid complacency.

These are the ingredients of “emotional sobriety,” one of my favorite terms from the recovery programs and my personal aim. These steps represent a paradigmatic shift: from a life of self-gratification to one of compassionate commitment to others.

Though April showers are reputed to bring May flowers, I can be pretty cynical about that: sometimes they only bring flash floods and soil erosion. These mindful steps can sometimes reset my negative mood and sometimes I just have to soldier on. Perseverance, patience and right practice can carry me through the gloom. But look; I see the sun.