Archives for posts with tag: finding joy

I drove to the office with a love song in my head. Sweet, endearing, lingering in my memory as a recollection of a time when I yearned for the sort of love I enjoy right now – although back then I didn’t actually believe such love existed at all (it was just that far outside of my own experience of life and the world). I get to the office, pour some coffee, and put on my playlist of “silly love songs” to coast into the new day. (Every song on this list is deeply meaningful to me in some way, with regard to love and loving, but admittedly, some of my choices may not make sense to anyone else – it’s not about that, though, is it?) My reflection smiles back at me in the window. The morning sky is gray and threatening rain. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a lovely morning anyway.

I woke from a deep sound sleep this morning, with serious thoughts still occupying my consciousness, left behind by my dreams. Something about choosing to be less negative, as a means of improving my quality of life, and sharing that thought somehow with those dear ones in my life who are reflexively deeply negative without really giving any thought to how that colors their experience over time. You know the sort, I’m sure (hell, maybe you are that sort – I once was, myself)? I’m talking about the folks whose humor is mostly pretty dark, often very sarcastic, sometimes self-deprecatory in a somewhat disturbing way to listen to? The folks who seem to complain at least a little bit about almost every experience they have? The ones who say “no” or reject ideas before an idea can be fully presented or a sentence completed? Yeah. “Those” people – the chronically negative buzzkills in our lives, who likely mean well, and may even think they are being “realistic” or humorous… How best to communicate to these people that the negativity they embrace with such firm commitment is not only a noteworthy “bring down” in any group (and potentially not as amusing as they may think), but potentially also the actual key to why they feel the way they do in the first place?

…I definitely get tired of chronic bitching almost immediately, and sarcastic “humor” and bitterness unleavened by real joy in life is exhausting to deal with…

What you plant in your garden determines what you harvest, but you’ve still got to pull the weeds.

I smile, listening to the love songs on my playlist – it’s hard to be annoyed while also wrapped in love. I sip my coffee and make room for gratitude; I’m fortunate to be so well loved, and to enjoy the opportunity to love so deeply in return. No doubt that colors my thinking. Certainly, becoming a more positive person generally (at least for me) followed falling in love with this singular human being who is now my beloved Traveling Partner. Sometimes it almost feels like that was some kind of shortcut or cheat code, but when I’m honest with myself, there was a fucking ton of work, and verbs, and practice of practices that also followed the beginning of this relationship – and those things could have been done, and occurred, and created the profound benefits that they did, without regard to being in love. They were choices. That the inspiration to make those choices was this profoundly deep emotion is mostly coincidental (although I wouldn’t change it for all the billions in the world). It’s doable without falling in love.

Bitter is not one of the flavors of Love.

How does one make a change from chronic bitterness and negativity to becoming a pretty positive and upbeat person day-to-day? Are there some “simple steps to being happy” that are being withheld from common knowledge? I don’t even know the answer to that question – I just know what steps I took, myself. Happy to share, I hope this is useful for you in some small way.

  1. If you need therapy, get therapy. How will you know? If you’re chronically miserable, you probably need therapy. If people around you are regularly suggesting therapy, or asking if you’re in therapy, or inquiring about your mental health and whether you’re okay, you may benefit from therapy. Just saying; sometimes we can’t make our journey alone.
  2. Be selective about the practices you practice. We become what we practice. If you practice chronic negativity, bitterness, sarcasm, that’s what you become, and what you fill your life with.
  3. Put your own self-care high on your list of things to do, every day.
  4. Be choosy about your media consumption – what you fill your head with will determine (often) what the content of your thoughts will likely be.
  5. Consider some sort of contemplative practice (like meditation) – make time in your day to “hear yourself think”.
  6. Embrace small joys and celebrate small wins. It just feels good – a lot better than feeling annoyed, disappointed, or bitter.
  7. Practice non-attachment. Clinging to expectations and assumptions is a fast track to being discontent and disappointed.
  8. Do good. Another way to feel good about life, is to contribute to the good in life.
  9. Live! Embrace change. Explore uncertainty. Try new experiences. Learn new things. Walk unfamiliar paths. The menu of The Strange Diner is vast – look it over.

Life is too brief. Don’t waste precious limited mortal moments on pointless performative negativity. Live authentically – and enjoy the joy you find (and create)! Just saying – you do have choices.

I smile and have another sip of my coffee. Good coffee. Good playlist. Good time to begin again. (Good luck on your journey!)

Cold morning. I woke a little early to quiet darkness, happy to maybe catch a glimpse of the full moon, but thinking mostly about primroses. I dress and head to the trailhead.

A first glimpse of the full moon – first one of the Spring.

Yesterday I planted strawberries in the flower beds, thinking they’d make a good ground cover. My Traveling Partner surprised me by having a decidedly strong negative opinion on that idea. He’d put a lot of work into the lawn, and he was worried about the strawberries spreading into the lawn and taking over. (Seems less than likely to me… but my partner knows plants.) Although I’m willing to watch for that and take preventative measures, the truth is, I’m also somewhat lazy, and prone to letting shit fall behind if I lack sufficient energy for the task. I see how under such circumstances, strawberries could become…weeds.

Rather than cause my beloved lasting stress, I propose replanting those strawberries in their own raised bed on the west side of the house, instead. He likes that idea much more. I’ll do that later today. The Anxious Adventurer helps out by assembling an inexpensive raised bed for that purpose from a kit I purchased at the garden store. (I could have done that, true enough, but I’m notorious for doing a pretty half-assed “good enough” job on such things, and both my Traveling Partner and his son like to see things built well.) I’m grateful for the help.

Those bare expanses of border around and between the blueberries? I decide I’ll fill those in with primroses, which are doing very well at the other end of the bed and needing to be divided as it is. Primroses, though? Primroses?

Pink primroses thriving in my garden.

The primroses are a story of their own, I suppose. I never had “a thing” for them before I moved into this house. They’ve grown on me as they grow in my garden. They were just a couple of garden store primroses added to the front flower bed by the previous owner for last minute “curb appeal” when the house was put on the market. There they were. Blooming. lol Just some random flowers, added to the edge of the bed, visible each time I left the house. Unimpressively commonplace, I used to think. Over five years those three original primroses have become large beautiful clumps, well-established and thriving, and blooming like crazy from the earliest Spring days well past the end of summer. They do so well, and they’ve got such fun bold colors, I’ve added a couple more, on some whim, each Spring. Those are spreading too. Don’t know why I thought strawberries were a necessary addition – just divide the damned primroses! Welcome them and take them seriously!

So, now I have what feels like a proper plan in mind and I’m impatient to proceed. My Traveling Partner’s lawn is under no threat from the primroses, the strawberries will do well in a raised bed protected from slugs, and I get flowers and strawberries. Win.

It’s hard to get a clear picture, sometimes it’s better to simply observe. It’s a metaphor.

I watch the moon set over the marsh, and add a reminder to read up on primroses. I really don’t know much about them. I guess knowing more makes sense. They’re pretty. Do they have history? Where are they native? Are there wild varieties? I know so much about roses. I know so little about primroses. Are there other colors and shapes that might look good in my garden, too? What else is there to know? I smile to myself. Such a simple thing to give me so much joy.

Where are you finding simple joy? What do you do to cultivate that in your life?

Begin again.

A mist has developed on the marsh, clinging to the ground, thick in low places. It’s a cold morning. I look down the trail. The full moon attracted quite a few early risers to the trail this morning. I lace up my boots and grab my cane. The clock is ticking and it’s time to walk the path I’ve chosen. Another day, another beginning.

I’m sitting at the trailhead listening to the rain fall, still hoping for a break in the rain sufficient to get a walk in without also getting soaked. I listen to the traffic drive by on the nearby highway. I observe the gleaming wet stripe of asphalt that crosses the view. The fields on the other side of the highway are in a low spot, as is the marsh behind me, and each year the fields and marsh flood in the winter rainy season, closing the lowland marsh trail and creating a vast shallow lake where the fields are. I had planned to walk the marsh trail. I’ll take the year-round trail for the rest of the rainy season. Different trail, different view; reality doesn’t care about my plans. lol

Lights reflected off a seasonal lake, before dawn.

I’m enjoying the quiet. I’m unconcerned about the rain. Circumstances change and change again, it’s best to enjoy things as they are whenever possible. Some people struggle to find joy. I used to be one of those. Turns out it is surprisingly easy to change that in favor of becoming a person who easily finds joy in the moment. It does take some practice, and it’s not really something that can be faked. I breathe, exhale, and relax, noticing again the quiet of the morning and enjoying it.

Maybe today I’ll do some painting before the clock runs out on the holiday season and the year?

I notice how much my neck is hurting and how loud my tinnitus seems. I shrug off my discomfort, because I also notice that the rain has stopped, and there is, for now, clear sky overhead. I grab my headlamp from where I leave it hanging from the gearshift, and my boots from the floor on the passenger side of the car. The weather is quite mild, although rainy, and it’s a good morning to walk, in spite of the darkness. I smile to myself, finding joy in this moment, too. It’s a good moment to begin again.

In spite of an upsetting (for many) election, I am giving thanks, feeling grateful, and preparing to celebrate. The holiday season is approaching. In my house that kicks off with Thanksgiving, which isn’t about pilgrims, indigenous people, or genocide – it’s about feasting and gratitude. It’s an opportunity to sit down as a family, enjoy a great meal, and appreciate how fortunate we are to have all that we do. Then…on to Giftmas (and my Traveling Partner’s birthday in between).

The wintry weather I’ve come to expect this time of year is beginning to settle in. This morning was just at the freezing point, and there was frost on the ground and a thin layer of ice on my windshield. I wore a heavy sweater and a fleece, and wrapped a scarf around my neck before setting off down the trail in the pre-dawn darkness, a circle of light bobbing ahead of me as I walked. I don’t prefer to walk with a headlamp, but I wouldn’t be walking in the darkness without it, and I’m grateful to have it. The morning is cold and quiet. I laugh at myself; I bet I could have slept in this morning.

It took months to pick out a birthday present for my Traveling Partner this year, and it won’t be a surprise. Machinery for the shop can’t generally be a surprise, it’s specialized and he’s the one who understands what he really wants and needs. It arrives today – I’m excited about it (so is he). Neither of us find it awkward or problematic that it is arriving weeks ahead of his actual birthday. lol The timing doesn’t feel particularly relevant. I like the idea that he may actually be in the shop using it on his birthday. His recovery finally seems to be progressing in a way that is apparent and visible. As I think about that a tremendous wave of gratitude and relief washes over me. I’ve been consumed with worry and dread for much of the year. If I get nothing for Giftmas but the certainty that he’s “going to be okay”, it would be enough, and feel like a lavish holiday.

I’ve got a long weekend ahead, then a couple weeks later (the weekend before Thanksgiving) a short getaway to the coast to paint, then the long Thanksgiving weekend, which my employer gives us as a holiday. It’s nice. It’s been a good year for getting enough time off (although much of it was spent on caregiving, quite a lot was healthy restful downtime). I breathe, exhale, and relax. I briefly wonder what next year might hold before I let that go. No point becoming invested in some future outcome that is not yet.

I walk the trail thinking about life, love, and art. It’s a season for celebration and gratitude, sure, but also for getting things done that have lingered too long on my to do list. I think about the garden, abandoned in the summer as my partner needed more and more caregiving support and time in a day became insufficient to do everything; it would benefit from a quick clean up and preparation for the Spring that isn’t even on my mind yet. The hot tub had been shut down and drained in the late Spring so that my partner could more easily sleep. It could be refilled and made ready for winter use. I walk and think about finite time and energy, and how best to make use of it.

Life and circumstances aren’t always what I want them to be, but I’m grateful for the good life I have, and the opportunities and choices my circumstances put in front of me. I walk on, and get ready to begin again.

I see daybreak on the horizon…

The cycle of holidays and seasons continues. I woke hoping to catch a glimpse of the Morning Star this morning (or, perhaps, this evening)… but no, it’s the Pacific Northwest, and the morning is cloudy, wet, and gray. No stars this morning. 🙂

Winter Solstice at home, 2020, the year of pandemic.

Yesterday’s flood waters have already receded. The morning is balmy and feels strangely mild after a day of chill winds and pounding rain. It’s the Winter Solstice (and, I hope, a merry one for you). I am smiling and eager, sipping my second coffee. I’ve planned a day’s painting, a way of celebrating, of meditating, of committing this day to memory. It’s special; I’m here, at home. 🙂

My Traveling Partner gave me some amazing gifts for Yule, and I opened them yesterday evening at his request; new paint, new brushes – and my lasting joy in this partnership reinforced, yet again, by his consideration. 🙂 I’m feeling very loved. I’m eager to get to work on new canvases, in this new studio.

I think a point I am making is that dates on calendars come and go. What lingers is the joy we take from the precious moments we share – when we allow those to be the details central to our thinking, and our recollections. (I mean… there are other choices.) What we commit to memory, and those details we regularly revisit, become the defining details of who we find ourselves to be, and how we see life, generally. Joy is not exclusive to any particular holiday – or any particular moment. I try to find my joy everywhere I can.

…This morning I am spectacularly joyful, on the order of an excited child…

I smile and sip my coffee. The euphoria of this one moment will fade. Perhaps even the rich cherished memory of it will also fade, with time. Hell, with the passage of time I may forget which particular gifting holiday resulted in my having these exquisite brushes. I have this moment, here, now, though, and I have this joy to cherish. It’s enough. 🙂

The morning sunshine breaks through the clouds. Perhaps a sunny day ahead? This studio has very good light on sunny days… I think it’s already time to begin again. 🙂

Merry Solstice, Humans. Here’s hoping we each find such joy as will sustain us through our darkest times, and my best and fondest wishes that we don’t need to use it that way, at all. 🙂