~ A Joy Warrior's Journey
Walk through the world with compassion.
Whether it shows or not, all of us are damaged goods.
Train your gaze to fall more on the good than the injury.
Butterflies still fly with broken wings, still offer
their gifts to the world. So can you. So can I.
Did you know that some butterflies drink tears?
It’s true. Proof that the Yes is made of love.
Think peace. It will change you.
Let it float through your mind
as a soft, gentle breeze.
Think hope. Let it rise up
like the first mists of dawn.
It will lift your heart.
Think kindness. Let it
flow from your eyes,
touching all that you see.
Kindness will change you.
Think forgiveness. Think grace.
Walk through the world
whispering thank you,
whispering Yes.
Watch as it all transforms.
Sweet little babies, I see you there
lining the edge of my garden
with your blossoms no bigger
than my pinkie nail.
I see you, rollicking with laughter
just because there is sun
and the fun of beaming
for yet another day.
And yet you beam, I’ve noticed,
even when there’s rain.
I forgot your name years ago,
when I first tucked you
in the ground. Since then
I’ve seen you weather
frost and drought and snow.
I think it’s your joy that does it.
Would you laugh even more
if I told you that now I fondly
address you as“Teach?”
A few weeks back, I challenged you to rate your happiness level on a scale of 1-10. Remember?
Since then, we looked at the choices that genuinely happy people make and I invited you to make those choices, too.
The first one was to decide that yes, you truly wanted to live a life in which you felt contented, capable, and centered—our working definition of “happy.”
The second choice was to decide to dedicate yourself to being happy, to make it your intention, and to practice—before you got out of bed in the morning— imagining yourself being happy as you carried out the activities of the day ahead.
The third step was to accept that you and you alone are accountable for your happiness, that you have to give up blaming anyone or anything else for its lack in your life.
Then, last week, I invited you to identify what kinds of things contributed to your happiness, to create a personal “happy list” of things that brought you contentment, satisfaction, or joy.
Today we’re going to talk about “centralizing” your happiness. Grab your “happy list,” or, if you didn’t make one, have some fun: Take a few minutes to jot down everything you can think of that you enjoy, then come back.
Got your list? Good. Read it over and see if there’s anything else you’d like to add. Now go over the list and mark the things you already enjoy fairly often in your life. Those are the things you have already “centralized.” You’ve made them important enough to make time for them.
Now look at the things that you didn’t check, and ask yourself, “What’s keeping me from doing some of these more? How can I add a couple things?”
That’s an important question, by the way. What is keeping you from doing more of the things that let you feel happy? Is your answer the truth? Or is it an excuse you’re accepting from yourself?
What would you have to do in order to have more of those things you enjoy in your life? What if you did it? How could you start experiencing more of those things, or parts of them, in your life right now?
Give yourself some time to mull it over, to figure out a way to enrich your life with more of the things that bring you joy.
People figure out ways even when they thought they didn’t have the time, or health, or funds, or freedom.
Start by imagining tucking more happiness in your pockets. How would it feel? How much energy would it add to your life? Then keep imagining it, over and over, and over. Imagining it rewires you; it creates new possibilities; it unveils opportunities and ignites new ideas. Once the image becomes real to you, surprising doors open.
Happiness isn’t an accidental phenomenon. It blossoms when you nurture its seeds. Putting the things that you enjoy front and center in your life is the way you water those seeds and give them light.
If you think your circumstances are preventing you from making your life a thriving happiness garden, stay tuned. We’ll deal with ways to overcome the seemingly insurmountable obstacles next week.
In the meantime, go over your list again and pick a few things to centralize in your life right now. Make the time. Make the effort. You deserve it.
Wishing you a week of enrichment and fun!
Warmly,
Susan
Image by Ian Lindsay from Pixabay
Clouds were clearing before I got to the lake,
the light returning after a long rain. Mine
was the only car in the parking lot. Not
a soul was in sight. Only this broad lake
mirroring sky and the curves of hills,
and the washed summer air and a sky
brushed with watercolor clouds. I stood
in the damp sand a long while breathing it,
everything else gone. Only this.
Not even me.
A month ago, only slow trickles of water
flowed over these rocks. Now, cascades!
All sparkly and bright, sending invisible
stars to land on your eyelids and face
once you get close enough. Summer
peaks, luxuriant, fragrant, lush,
the kind you dream about,
the way you dream about heaven.
Noon in the deep woods
is remarkably silent. A few
crows call. Insects quietly buzz.
Beyond that, the only sound
is the whispering of the trees,
and that fills the air completely,
like an incessant prayer. You
must walk softly, stepping
with a careful foot lest you snap
a twig and startle the atmosphere.
Even then, the silence forgives
and continues, enveloping you,
accepting you, even in your lumbering,
as one of its own.
Royalty came to visit today,
a fine, fat prince in a disguise.
What legs he had! What strength!
To see him leap all the way
from here to there, a length
twenty times the length of his body,
was enough to make me laugh
and applaud. He smiled at that
and winked his eye. But still,
I couldn’t bring myself to kiss him.
So he just leaped away.
To my amusement, I found myself
pulling on my sneakers, camera at hand,
as if my body decided it was going
to the park without even telling me.
Those butterflies you wanted to see?
Oh! Okay.
Sometimes magic happens.
Some whim sets your direction.
Go with it. You might find butterflies.
The layers of sumac fronds,
each a different shade of green
depending on how the sun
catches them or whether it does,
remind me of paintings by an artist
whose name I can’t recall.
But another memory comes to mind
of sitting with my dad on a sand dune
overlooking Lake Superior watching
the sun drop through a sky drenched
in pinks and corals, aqua, blazing gold.
We were silent for a long time.
Then my dad said, “Whoever paints those
sure does a great job.”
That about says it all.
I look at the sumac and smile.