~ A Joy Warrior's Journey
“Only in quiet waters do things mirror themselves undistorted.
Only in a quiet mind is adequate perception of the world.”
~Hans Margolius
The deeper your contentment, the calmer your mind.
The calmer your mind, the clearer your perception.
The clearer your perception, the more beauty you see.
The more beauty you see, the more ecstasy you feel.
Seek contentment.
While digging around in my archives the other day, I found this “Blast from the Past” that I wrote in 2010. I was writing about character strengths at the time and this one was about the strength of optimism. I called it . . .
“The Breakfast of Champions”
None of it matters: Where you were born, who your parents are, how tough you had it growing up, how many boulders you had to climb over, what the competition was doing.
What matters is whether you’ve got heart, how much you want to be, how deep you’re willing to dive into the life force within you, what stories you believe and tell.
Especially the stories. You either have excuses or you have reasons. It’s up to you. You either let it get you or you don’t. You see people who came from the sorriest of life’s lot wearing medals, champions risen from the dregs. What kinds of stories do you suppose they listened to and chanted to themselves in the dead of night? Tell yourself those kinds of stories.
The ones who win life’s prizes don’t let a missing leg or drunken dad or empty wallet tell them that the whole deck of cards is stacked against them. They see what they have, not what they lack.
If they stumble, they don’t decide they’re worthless. They tie their shoes or watch out for cracks and keep on with the race. They remember the times they did well, beat the pack, sunk the putt, hit the target, aced the test. They believe in themselves. They tell themselves “I can,” and “I will.”
They fly the banners of hope and high expectations. They eat optimism for breakfast and dine on their victories at night, and even if the victories are small, they find enough of them to make a satisfying meal.
Life is for the brave. It sings like a riot of trumpets for the ones with the daring and guts to keep going even when things are tough. And it sends happiness to dwell in their hearts and applauds them with standing ovations.
Wishing you a week of courage and joy.
Warmly,
Susan
Along the roadsides now, the summer wildflowers dance.
I walk ankle deep in them, naming them as I go – red clover,
daisy, Queen Anne’s lace, butterfly weed, and tiny yellow ones
whose name I do not know. The air is fragrant with their scents
and the scents of the grasses and of the corn in the fields they line.
Earlier today I learned that to make a single pound of honey, bees
must visit two million flowers. “Here they are! Here they are!”
I call to all four corners as I twirl in joy beneath the early August sun,
laughing because, of course, the bees already know.
In this one instant of reality
a delicate swallowtail lights
on the blazing red of an azalea,
just inches from my face,
for a sip of nectar from its central
circle of tiny flowers, the sun’s
hot light drenching it all so that
the colors burn themselves
into my mind even before
the swallowtail rises to vanish
in a dance in the far trees.
Be a world-tipper, one who stands tall with arms flung wide,
trumpeting your joy.
Be the one who makes the difference,
who turns the tide from dark to light,
who brings in the dawning of happiness.
Color the world with your twinkle and shine.
Give a hoot, give a wink, give a word, give a smile.
Stuff your pockets with kindness and pass it out to strangers.
Scatter love as freely as popcorn; there’s always plenty more.
Be the bright bloom beside the dusty road,
and sing out your deep-throated joy.
Go ahead: Tip the world in life’s favor.
“Take all you want,” my neighbor said.
as we drove in his old golf cart to the far corner
of the farm where they grew beneath the power lines.
They hung heavy and gleaming from thorny stems
that rose into the sky or hung in tangled brambles
that wound in twists to the ground. I had to move slowly
and carefully as I reached for one after another,
planning the trajectory of my hand’s travel,
thorns finding my bare arms anyway, and
me not caring at all, a few scratches seeming
a small price to pay for such rare treasures.
Red-winged blackbirds and robins called from the trees
at the property’s edge, the breeze from them licking
my face as the high sun blinded me and burned
my skin. But the berries were jewels, nearly
falling into my hand as I touched them, making
a soft plumping sound as I gently dropped them
into my bowl, and I kept on until I got them all,
every last perfectly ripe one. A few, of course,
went straight to my watering mouth as well.
Some of them are frozen now, and will wait
until Christmas to be made into pie. And some
became jam and glisten from the centers
of thumbprint butter cookies, a gift of thanks
and gladness for my neighbor, the very least
that I could give in exchange for the gift
of this memorable hour.
Today is one of those “keeper” days,
the kind you put in your memory bottle
to uncork when winter’s grown long,
just to remember that perfection is possible.
So I stand here, feeling the breeze
on my cheek, the warmth of the sun
on my arms, inhaling the fragrances
of water, sand, wild carrot, and trees,
listening to the lapping of the waves
against the shore, to the whisper
of dancing leaves. From around the bend
where white floats guard the little beach,
the laughter of children rises like birds
into the clear, sparkling air, sending me
back to childhood. And I add those scenes
to my memory bottle, too, the ones
where time stood still and every moment
tasted like honey. Ah, it will be a fine wine,
this one, holding the flavors of the golden days
when life was rich and full, and absolutely nothing
was lacking.
It’s a Sunday, the last one in July
and I am sitting on mown grass
at the edge of the creek, watching
sunlight float on its calm waters
as if it were blessing the day.
And the waters, in turn, bless
the minnows darting in its shallows,
and the roots of the trees on its banks,
and the roots of the grasses and flowers.
And geese plop on their webbed feet
to the water’s edge and slide into it
as if to partake in this grace. And I breathe
the green of it, and my heart whispers
“Summer. Summer. Summer.”
When you visit here, maybe you’ll notice that my subtitle is “A Joy Warrior’s Journey.” “Joy Warrior” is a title I gave myself back when I was immersed in my studies of positive psychology. It started out as a game. I imagined it as my joining a kind of order or school where you dedicated yourself to learning to live in joy, no matter what. I invented an ever-growing story around it. I couldn’t help it; it’s the writer in me.
It turns out that it’s serious business being a Joy Warrior. It’s not like all of a sudden you step into a pair of magic happy shoes and tra-la-la your way though life. It’s not a game of let’s pretend.
Its goal is to master the art of dissolving anything that stands between you and perfect, radiant joy. And these days, the heap of things cluttering access to joy seems astonishingly deep and tall. It extends from right under our feet to the edges of the sky. As a joy warrior, it’s your job to figure out how to keep those things from stealing your attention and peace. And let me tell you, that’s one heck of a challenge.
So here I am, slaying the dragons that would devour my view of joy, passing along clues as I find them. I’ve learned that joy-stealers are devious, malevolent things. And they love to upset you. To them your rage is like a charred marshmallow to devour around a fire as they chortle with scorn. Remembering that is a good tool to keep in your basket. Don’t feed the joy-stealers.
Another things I’ve learned is that you’re best off when you play to your strengths. Do what you’re good at, what attracts you, what gets your heart beating. Back in the hippie days they said it, “Follow your bliss.” You go farther faster when you move in harmony with your personal strengths than you do when you try to fight against your weaknesses. Smile at your reflection in the mirror every day. Maybe wink at yourself. Remember what it feels like to have fun, to be at ease, to feel a sense of appreciation floating up from somewhere inside you.
You see things more broadly when you’re at peace and content with things just as they are. Even when they’re not what you wanted them to be. It’s a discipline to look for the silver lining, you know. And there always is one. It’s a world of contrasts, of dualities, a kind of “can’t have one without the other” place. When you can see that, and allow it to be okay, the problems of the world, even your personal ones, lose their density and the light of joy, glowing soft and silver, shines through them, and there’s more clarity, and perspective, and a kind of wordless understanding of how everything really is okay.
I didn’t mean to go on and on. I just wanted to expand a little on my experiences as a Joy Warrior. You can decide to be one, too, you know. Or invent a school of your own. Or just be who you are and have the most fun being you that you can possibly have.
Wishing you a week sparkled with smiles.
Warmly,
Susan
When my dreaming stopped, I was face to face
with a lavender bee balm blossom, its perfume sharp
and green, and, of all things, a hummingbird moth
drinking in its nectar, then floating to the next one
through the moist summer air, here beneath tall pines
with whipped cream clouds floating in the blue sky.
What are the odds? Who could imagine such a world!