A New Promise in Every Day

Yesterday began full of promise.  Just looking at my little daughter, snuggled down deep in the covers (or sometimes sprawling out over them) makes me feel hopeful and excited for all the day might bring. 

I'd been dreading the day a bit, not wanting to socialize, not feeling in the mood for a big party, but as so often happens, once we arrived at our friends' barbeque and I saw the people who were there, many of whom I've known for several years, I began to relax.  I quickly found my place in the fray, grabbed a cup of coffee to give myself a needed caffeine boost, and wandered about, weaving in and out of conversation and settling at a table toward the back of the yard, under a well seasoned tiki hut by the water.  

I confess that I've never much liked large parties.  I've always forced myself to attend them, not wanting to appear unsociable and hoping that exposure would whittle down my walls of resistance.  Truthfully, though, I find more joy in the quieter moments of life: sharing a cup of coffee with a friend, hiking in the woods, walking our dog, working on a creative project with our daughter.  I consider myself to be a sociable person, but not a social butterfly.  I do best in small, more intimate groups than I do in large crowds where the noise and commotion can be overwhelming.  

 

While talking with a good friend, she told me she noticed an extra sparkle in my eye, a little bit more brightness about my face, a change of some sort.  I tell her that I've been reading this book, and started a gratitude journal, a blessings list, and it's been effecting me in a very profound and unexpected way.   This is not a book I'd normally read, but a fellow home schooler recommended it in an indirect sort of way, and something about the writing has really captured my heart.  Some healing over old hurts has begun, and a recognition that there are so many gifts we miss out on during the course of a day simply because we're not really paying attention.

I don't know where I'm going with this newest of wonderful spiritual emotion, but I do know it's bringing a greater peace into our home, a better feeling of ease into my heart, a lot more inspiration to keep moving forward when I'm tired and/or grumpy (these two traits usually accompany one another).  Does it matter? Does clinical rationale need to walk hand in hand with such feelings as this all the time? Usually I rationalize and analyze and scientifically pick things apart until I'm very unsure of what it is I hold in my hand.  I wonder if sometimes I should just let go a bit and flow along with the beauty.  I'm an artist-aren't I supposed to be good at that??? Sometimes, moments come in life that present me with feelings not just a tiny bit unlike the feeling I get when I think about attending big parties.  I'm resistant to change, afraid of where it's going to lead me, unsure of what I'm getting myself into.  In this case, I'm not really entering a big change so much as falling back on some old faith, renewing some old happiness.  Trying not to fall back into a feeling of complacency and asleepness. Throwing the window open wider.

 Still dreaming about farms in New England, my northern home, how we as a family might be able to find more joy in the every day process of making a living, how we can become more self sustaining, more able to contribute to the health and well being of others, more spiritually centered and connected together.  More focused on the grace of the everyday bowl of Cheerios and the mangoes in our back yard and the laughter of our child and the blue of the sky behind the clouds of late spring.  

 

It's all about love, in the easy moments and the difficult moments and the times when we feel filled to the brim with happiness and the times we feel lower than dirt.  It's about love; our appreciation of it and our need to give it away and how it inspires us to keep trying.  It's about giving and it's also about being willing to receive.