Posted tagged ‘swimming’

10 things

October 7, 2010

10 Things Which Make Me Happy

1. My children. Deeply happy in that “I can’t believe how blessed I am that I get to parent these incredible beings” kind of indescribable way. That “this is love in its purest form for me” way.

2. M&Ms. How can I go from #1 above to candy coated little chocolates? Easy. It’s pure pleasure, an m&m. The little clinky noise they make when poured into a bowl. The little rush of chocolate after a tiny snap of crunch. The bright colors. The way they are fantastic on their own but also amazing mixed with cookie dough or ice cream or peanut butter. Oh, yes. M&Ms.

3. Music. The way it invades the soul without asking, creating connection to memory, time, place, present. The way it evokes emotion or carries lyric as though musician and listener are sharing an intimate secret. The way it can prompt action: laugh, party, shake it, shake it, shake it, let go and belt it out off-key if you must.

4. Gardens. More specifically, my hands in the soil. No– any gardens, because even looking at photographs of gardens zones me out. Color, texture, scent, taste. The task of planting a seed, saying a blessing over it and watching as it transforms: joy divine. The task of weeding or digging or hauling rocks taps into some internal bliss akin to religious rapture. Hallelujah.

5. Friends. I have the best collection of inspiring, creative, accomplished, devoted, loyal, loving, fun and funny friends. They nurture me. They heal me. They bless me with their presence, true presence in my life. They honor me with their trust. They crack me up. They remind me what is beautiful and right about connection and love.

6. Words. Serendipity, Avocado, Scootch. Sounds and symbols together creating meaning, which we then convey with voice or pen or keyboard. Conversation and connection and lyric and poetry and understanding.

7. Food. The way it can be central to the experience of connection. Yes, it literally nourishes. The act of preparing and sharing becomes nourishing. “Let me feed you” moves into a metaphor for giving of self. Levels of satisfaction from the genuine pleasure of tasting a perfect strawberry to the craft of creating flavors and textures to the delight of hearing “oh my gosh, this is amazing” when a friend bites into a lovingly prepared meal.

8. Laughter. Yes, of course, if I’m laughing it must be because I’m happy, right? But I’m talking about hearing others laugh, especially about sharing a laugh. The kind of satisfaction that comes from creating a laugh response from someone else “oh yeah, you get it”. It’s validating, “I’m funny!” It’s genuine pleasure. It tickles.

9. Water. Being near the ocean calms me like nothing else, even when the ocean shows its power. It’s like instant savasana. Primal. Lakes, rivers, puddles, even rainfall–pleasure within. The liberation of swimming underwater: quiet, dark, cool, a little mysterious and complete joy.

10. Clean sheets. Oh my gosh! Sliding into a well-made bed. Cool sheets (line dried and smelling of sunshine?!), letting go of the cares of the day surrounded by comfort and pleasure, a hug shepherding me into sleep. Bliss!

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dropping stones

September 11, 2009

IMG_0845This morning, sitting in my quiet house with a cup of tea, I heard the church bells from the church on the corner tolling over and over.  At first, I thought it was the bells from the Academy up the hill, calling the kids to class, but that bell happens earlier in the day and only rings once or twice.  This was persistent.  The slow cadence was sad and ominous.  Then it occurred to me: it is September 11. 

I sent a prayer in that moment.  Blessings to those whose grief is tied to this day.  Peace to an endless conflict with eight years of countless victims.  Gratitude for safety and abundance in my own day-to-day.  I sang a song.  I remember…

That bell signaled the rhythm of the day.  It has been a day of reflection on grief and change.  When I have these moments of consideration, I imagine that I am swimming.  As I swim, I carry a bag full of burdens; stones which weigh me down and threaten to drown me.  As I meditate on a circumstance or acknowledge a care, I imagine dropping a stone into the depths.  Usually when it lands, it kicks up some emotional sludge and muddies the water so that I must stop swimming for a  minute lest I be lost.  Eventually, things settle again and I can resume swimming. It is easier as I drop my stones, easier as I release my worries to the universe with the faith that eventually the water clears and things right themselves again and I can swim unburdened. 

  I had a very long conversation with my former husband about our children and our co-parenting and our hopes for the future.  I told him his resentment is a burden for me.  He told me he is sorry for that.  I let go of that stone.

I had someone ask me if there is any possibility of reconciliation with a lost love.  There is not. I re-read letters he wrote to me and then I put them away for good.  I let go of that stone.

As I was cleaning out files and putting papers in order, I came across journals written two years ago, when my world changed so drastically and so suddenly that I am still catching my breath.  I cried tears of compassion for the woman who wrote those pages as she tumbled about in an angry ocean of grief, illness, uncertainty, loss, anger, exhaustion.  She is me, yet removed enough that I can read of her pain without experiencing it again.  I cried tears of relief that I can see the scars and remember the injury but that I know the healing and the lessons and the blessings.  I did not drown in that ocean.  I am a powerful swimmer.  I let go of stones for every circumstance and every fear that did not come true in those deep and despairing days.

And tonight, sitting in my quiet house with a cup of tea, I wait for the mud to settle and the water to clear.  When it does, I know I will move forward with intention and integrity into the blessings of this journey.  They often arrive on unexpected currents.