Another Day

You know that moment when you first wake up in the morning? You realize you’re here again and begin to orient yourself. What time is it? What day is it? What do I have to do?

And then you begin it. Another day.

Right then, in that little slice of time when you step into the day before you, a magical opportunity lurks. And if you grab it, it will make all the difference.

It’s right there, ready to shine its light the instant you give it your attention. All you have to do is notice it, nothing more. Do only that, and its invitation to you is clear.

What it offers is a ray of joy wrapped as a bright ribbon around this gift of another day.

Notice it.

Then, if you’re wise, you’ll accept it, with gratitude and the determination to carry its ribbon of light with you into the coming hours.

You can create your own gesture of acceptance. Maybe you’ll imagine a glistening ribbon and see yourself taking it in your hand and tying it somewhere that you’ll notice as you go about your day. Imagine it circling the little finger of your left hand, for example, where its light will glint at you now and then as the day unfolds.

Or maybe you’ll note the invitation and say a phrase of some kind to acknowledge your acceptance.

One of my friends says out loud, “I am open, willing, and ready to receive all the gifts the Universe will bring to me today.” It’s a good one. You may want to try it on, see if it fits you.

Personally, I speak Psalms 118:24. “This is the day which the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it.” It fits well with my mission of being a Joy Warrior.

Some days, when I wake in a cloud of darkness, repeating it feels like a determined commitment that I make in spite of the circumstances I see the day holding. On those days, saying it is a challenge. I am committing my will to finding joy and gladness in the day–however daunting the task may seem.

Then I take a deep breath, let it out, and see what is good and beautiful, right at this very moment. The challenging circumstances which I’m facing don’t disappear. But they shrink radically, and I’m no longer lost in their oppressive cloud. I can take the day’s events a moment at a time, and do them well, and still see the goodness and beauty around me. What was a cloud becomes nothing more than dust dancing beneath my feet.

That’s pretty good magic in my book.

All you need to do is notice the invitation to recognize this, another day, as a gift.

Then accept it, claiming it as yours.

Warmly,
Susan