(from about a week ago)
This morning I lay in bed almost crying because I wanted you (to).
I didn’t know how to love you. I wanted to so much.
But I was afraid of what might happen if I woke you up.
What would happen if we really woke up?
The dog was wedged in between us like a barrier. You snored.
I slipped out of bed and tied on his little halter, walking through the wet, lush, bright green grass, letting him loose so that he bounded and sniffed around in joy.
I watched people meditating in the pagoda.
And I stood in the circle of stones (why hadn’t I noticed this fire pit before?) and stretched my weary bones as my skin warmed in the sunlight.
Then came immediate (and overdue) release.
On return the coffee was made. We sat and talked, frightened for the little black squirrel that tried so hard to cross the road, both relieved when it didn’t (as were the Asian ladies who were trying to coax it back onto the sidewalk).
This morning you were soft with me. So was she.
Those quiet moments of settling open helped me to pass through this day with ease.
Instead of reacting to what seemed lacking, I decided to just be grateful for good company, the way the clean sheets smelled, soft skin touching.
I’m grateful for friends who aren’t in touch because they (we) all care too much.
I’m grateful for my dream job and the challenges it brings, how I was joyously immersed for much longer than was necessary today.
I’m grateful for strange YouTube videos, beach walks and patio sits—even my sun burn, because it reminds me of that octopus sculpted carefully from beach sand and the way the kids played by the ocean.
Grateful for the way that the cheap Chinese food makes me feel like ass, because remembering this fully might help me to not eat it.
This morning I was so focussed on the way I felt separate, but then realized that we were all together and that was okay.
All it took to feel better was a flip in perspective.
How can I be in more complete joy with the people that shape my life right now?
What questions can I ask myself and others?
What is true support, compassion, fun about?
How can I (we) build a new version of joy?
It’s time to change the definition.