Archives for posts with tag: joy

I’m sipping coffee and taking a moment after my morning walk. I’ll head to work, next, but this quiet interlude is mine. I’m sitting quietly, looking out into the view beyond and contemplating how I might capture this view in acrylic, in watercolor, in oil, or in a wholly new medium for me – in pastels.

Light and shadow, and an ordinary view.

I am content to sit here with my thoughts, even for hours. This is a pleasant moment.

I’ve tidied up my studio such that I can actually make use of it. Along the way I found an old cigar box with an unexpected treasure within – two small sets of pastels, an assortment of neon colors and an assortment of iridescent colors, looking very much unused since whenever they were purchased. I don’t recall buying them. The shoebox itself is one that one of my parents had used to send me something… sometime around 1995? Older? Old, for sure.

A fun surprise.

I continue to feel inspired by the thought of exploring a new medium, artistically. I picked up a selection of good quality pastels at the local art store, and some appropriate paper, and ordered some woodless colored pencils and pastel pencils. A small price to pay for the joy and growth yet to come.

Colors. Joy in a box.

For a moment, I feel impatient to begin, then chuckle at my human foolishness, because I have already begun! This moment, right here, now, is part of the experience. I smile and breathe it in. Inspiration. Joy. Enthusiasm. Eagerness. Delight. Wonder. It’s quite delicious and I am grateful to enjoy this moment.

I take time to really savor this pleasant moment, and to really “fill my cup” with this quiet joy.

The sun continues to rise. The clock continues to tick. It’s already time to begin again. I’m ready.

I’m awake, though I don’t mean to be. It’s quite late and the house is quiet. My Traveling Partner sleeps. The only sounds I hear are the 3D printers “singing” their happy songs in another room. The sound of the printers printing is a sound I find joyful, and it does not disturb me.

He gave me the moon and the stars.

I look around me in the dim twilight of this room, softly illuminated by various paintings and objects that glow in the dark. I feel very loved; my partner made many of these things for me. They calm me when I wake, alarmed, during the night.

I sit quietly in the dark, smiling. I won’t be awake long. I think happy thoughts of the day feeling wrapped in love.

Love everywhere.

It was a lovely day. I smile recalling the new spice racks my Traveling Partner made and installed for me. I think about love. I think about his eyes and his smile and his rude jokes. I think about his strong arms around me and the way he loves me.

The quiet persists and I am ready to sleep. Tomorrow is soon enough to begin again.

I’m relaxing. Enjoying the evening. I’ll probably be up rather late; I collapsed into a foggy, dreamy, lush nap shortly after I got home from work (and after making a short trip to a favorite local pie spot to pick up a pie – why not? I like pie…). I woke refreshed, and found my Traveling Partner had slept through the time I was napping, himself, relaxing on the couch. We must have needed the sleep. Dinner was simple, nothing fancy.

…There’s nothing about this that is significant, important, or, probably, even interesting. It’s just a quiet evening with nothing much going on. It’s pleasant, and that’s enough.

I’m in a lot of pain tonight. It’s not “new pain”. Just my arthritis. Chronic. Predictable. But not new. I mean, shit, I first started feeling the twinges of what would become my “constant companion” in… 1988? 1989? Something like that. About 35 years ago. At first I thought there was “something seriously wrong” with my spinal fusion – no one explicitly warned me about the likelihood that osteoarthritis might set in, in the adjacent vertebrae, or gave me any idea what to expect when it did… until after it was part of my experience. Not much of a fucking “warning”, but what could have been done? It’s not like a warning about arthritis would have caused me to decline the surgery that lets me walk, stand, and get around as well (and go as far) as I do. So… I hurt. I mostly don’t mention it out loud to other people. I probably minimize it more often than I should when I’m talking to my Traveling Partner. I don’t like him to worry, or stress over it, and for fucks sake, what could he even do about it? Basically nothing. So… why bitch? I just deal with it and try to move on. Take medication when I need it. Keep myself moving (because being too still too much of the time definitely makes things worse over time – a lesson learned decades ago). Sometimes it’s hard. Life, too. So… yeah. So what?

I distract myself with entertaining videos. I write. I listen to music. Play video games. Read books. I enjoy life. It’s already likely to seem far too short. 🙂

No one likes to hurt. Pain sucks. I remind myself how common it is that we do. For sure there are people who have it much worse, more of the time, than I do. Perspective; it is so much more profound to experience contentment and joy, because I definitely do know what it feels like to be mired in pain and misery. Maybe it’s enough.

…Be kind to people. It’s not always obvious how much pain someone is in, and how it defines their experience. We’re all just people. Pain is part of being human.

Live. Work. Sleep. Wake. Repeat.

It’s time to begin again.

The world is often a crazy, chaotic, terrifying place, it seems. Sometimes the sorrows and frustrations outnumber the fleeting moments of happiness… maybe… mostly? It can sure seem that way. This journey called life is strange and sometimes strained by the challenges of our circumstances, or just the very human nature of our very human selves. It isn’t often an “easy” experience, at all. This morning, though? I am sipping my coffee, smiling, and thinking about love. Not “I love my coffee” love. Not “I love my job” love. Not even “I love my family and my friends” love. I am thinking about that heartfelt, gut-churning, butterflies-in-my-stomach launching, sweating, mind-altering, mood-enhancing, exciting, exotic, mundane, routine, spectacular romantic love that (if we’re fortunate) we may have the opportunity to enjoy at some point in our adult lifetime. If we’re particularly self-aware, and very skilled with our judgement of character, we may even recognize it while it is happening. 😀 A rare few may enjoy it more than once in their lifetime.

“Life Sparkles (with the love we feel)” 11″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas w/glow and glitter 2018

…I’m sipping my coffee thinking about love. The love I share with my Traveling Partner (on life’s journey). This is an amazing relationship. No, we’re not perfect people. We fuss at each other now and then. Having met each other later in our adult lives, we sometimes forget that the other has lived an entire life before the point at which we met, bringing skills, memories, and anecdotes of times we did not share to this relationship. I feel fortunate that we were friends before we were lovers. Lovers (and flat mates) before we married. This is a relationship built on a firm foundation, based on shared values and shared goals, but also on affectionate respect and consideration for each other’s individual qualities that make us so different. Why go on about it? Because it’s out there. There is love aplenty in the world. There are verbs involved… No doubt results will vary.

“Communion” 24″ x 36″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic details 2010

I’m counting down the days, now. 4 days, as it happens. In 4 days we celebrate our 12 anniversary married. 4382 days married. Worth celebrating. 12 years of fairly steady forward momentum on this journey together. My Traveling Partner is truly a partner worthy of spending a lifetime with; he lifts me up, he challenges my expectations, he encourages (and demands) my best, he demonstrates his enduring love for me every day, he sparks a fire in my heart that burns bright. Sometimes he frustrates me. That doesn’t limit my affection for him. Sometimes he tests my patience. That doesn’t diminish my love. We’re very human. We love in a very human way – that just makes sense. 🙂

Be love. It’s a choice. Love is a verb.

It’s nice to sit and sip my coffee thinking about love. To sit and ask the question “is this where I want to be?” and “is this love good for me?” and know with effortless certainty that I am, and it is. I hope he feels our love with similar confidence. I fucking love that guy. 😀

Sharing the love, and sharing the building.

No idea what the weekend holds; we’ve changed our plans a couple times already. All that matters, really, is to enjoy it together. 🙂

Sluggish start to a new day, in spite of this good cup of coffee. I’d very much rather be sleeping. lol My reminder to take morning medication goes off, startling me; I’ve usually taken it and silenced the alarm before now. I chuckle quietly to myself – that’s the whole point of having an alarm, these days when I’m sluggish and not super alert. Purpose fulfilled.

I am musing contentedly about “things that bring joy”. Pretty subjective notion, there, but I am … entertained? Satisfied. It’s a reasonable bit of reflection for a slow morning. What brings you joy? It may be quite different in some regards to what brings me joy… although… human primates being what we are, there’s surely a lot of overlap? I think about it. While I reflect on what brings me joy, I also contemplate how to deliver that kind of joyful experience to someone else. What could be more delightful than the joy someone experiences through some little thing I may have done? I love that feeling. 😀

…The joy itself is a pretty splendid feeling all on its own, too, is it not?

I smile to myself and remember to update the budget to reflect changes, and feel a bit of background anxiety melt away. The anxiety wasn’t over the expenses themselves, or even the budgeting or the spreadsheet; it was the loose end, the awareness that the budget was not up-to-date. That’s the kind of shit that so easily can wreck a moment, a day, or an experience, so I pause my writing, hop over to Sheets and update my budget to reflect changes my Traveling Partner and I had discussed. Feels good that doing so doesn’t provoke any anxiety at all – it only eases it. That feel new(ish). I savor the moment with a contented sigh, and a sip of coffee.

I let the clock tick away without giving it much attention. I glance at my hands. I’ve torn them up lately, mostly over background anxiety and bullshit, wholly unnecessary and mostly completely unrelated to any real thing in my day-to-day experience. I’m okay… but my torn cuticles tell their own story. The other night, my Traveling Partner quietly, without prompting, and with a very serious concerned look on his face stepped over to where I was sitting and just handed me a bottle of lotion for my poor hands. lol I got the hint. So… I’m working on focusing more on joy than stress, and doing my mindful best to keep from tearing at my cuticles or biting my nails. It’s super hard. I keep practicing. It’s gotten so much better than it once was – still not where I’d like to be. I’ll just keep at it, patiently, building discipline through diligence and practice. We become what we practice.

…Sometimes it’s quite difficult to practice not doing something…

I breathe, exhale, relax. I find myself thinking about far away friends and “once upon a time” long ago moments of shared joy.

My eye lands on the clock. It’s already time to begin again…