There is a calm here and now. The golden doodle has returned to my daughter’s care and I am quietly alone again. Walking out to get the mail under a bright October moon I am closer to heaven than I have ever been. This is a state of being. I would like to stay here awhile. Slow the clocks.
Often, life will set things off kilter.
Pepe the spider is still holding firm onto the Starboard side of the house. We share indifferent greetings each morning as I water my front garden. He just is. Occasionally I see him sucking the life out of some mummy he’s created. “Good job,” I say.
Good job is also what I’m telling myself a lot these days. Reassurance? Self-soothing? Meditation?
I am not anxious nor tired. I am well-read. Not well-fucked. This is all there is.
I think about my loved ones. I say hello to them. Occasionally I hear the hint of a reply. Mostly, I hear them saying, “Yes!” when I blurt out a “good job” to myself. I don’t actually hear anything. I know it. I am still connected to the relatives of my past. It’s not science. It’s spiritual. It’s Jung and a collective unconscious.
A heightened experience of life. That’s how I describe my current bliss. Recording in high-definition. Resting with ease. Finding comfort in spiders, dogs, and writers. Writing. Joining the conversation already in progress. Life. Prose. Song.
If you’re with me thus far, welcome to the club. You too are mad. And a reader. Two of my favorite qualities. Here we are together, what shall we do?
I had a remarkable day with only one major setback. Heck, perhaps it’s a gift. Blessings I can’t comprehend, just up ahead. The first job came through this morning. “Yes,” I said, I’ll see you Monday. The second job was more of the same, easy, compensation relative to experience. The first job is menial. At full-time it will have excellent health benefits.
I imagine what is best for me. I am often aiming at the wrong idea. My understanding of happiness occurred as a result of much unhappiness. Great loss is a harbinger of great creativity and artistic drive. Loss becomes me.
Loss is also addition. In losing my partner I have gained a lot of time and attention back. The dip into the loving arms of a capable and beautiful woman was fruitful and flawed. I learned for the first time in my adult life, since reading the book, what a secure attachment felt like. It felt good. It felt different. I lost all worry. I was set to take on setback, rejection, and loss.
So I am. At a loss. Taking it on. Enjoying the process of recovery. Leaving some things behind. Learning that I cannot change the past. Sitting in the present moment and listening for some higher message, higher love. Bring it to me.
I am in no hurry.
I love that about this moment. Did it take 60+ years to arrive, or am I just now capable of understanding my own joy?
Joy is the currency of life. With joy we grow and thrive. Without joy we shrink. Wither. Die.
The doodle was a source of warmth and enthusiasm. Also a model for what did not want in my next partner. I need more of a cat. Someone with outside interests brings joy back into the relationship. Joy is what you do, what lights you up, what you give to others. I bring a lot of joy. Some people can’t handle it. I talk loudly. I laugh a lot. I use positivism as a shield.
I also know loss. From those overwhelming moments I survived and returned to tell the story. Hear me. This is the verse about joy.
Once you find it in yourself you begin to see it and resonate with it in others. Joy sees joy. Joy brings more joy. Joy + Joy.
My equation has been found. Other factors, denominators, and decimal points are involved. At the beginning of the relationship it’s joy that brought me to you. In the middle of the relationship it’s joy that keeps us connected. When the joy is disrupted is when you see the underbelly of a person. The world is going to punch you. How you respond is part of life’s journey. You learn it or you fail over and over, get mad, and seek revenge.
Here’s the truth: what you are thinking about is your reality.
If you’re scrolling and hating and comparing your life away, that’s what your life is. The thinking you are cultivating forms the experience you’re having right now. If you’re over-involved in politics or sports or parenting your kids, other parts of your life will take the hit. Just add some good stuff into the mix. Read a great book. Read one of your favorite books from high school to prime the pump.
Read.
Learn to write. Just write. The Artist’s Way has a wonderful practice, “Morning Pages” where you simply write for 30 minutes upon wakening in the morning. No editing. No slowing or revising. It’s a wonderful gateway to beginning the dialogue with your own thoughts. A voice develops. A song you like singing. The morning pages are a gateway drug to other creativity.
Write.
As you express yourself in written language you strengthen you mental constructs for your life. New terms you discover in your own self-expression become mantras for your aspirational future.
Breathe.
What I’m learning to do is stop.
.
Become aware of my breathing. Listen to the sound of my body, voice, thoughts, mind. Dip a hand into the stream of conscious thoughts rushing by and feel the chill. Push. Energy. Light up your mind with better prompts. Ask yourself better questions. Be patient while waiting for the answer. There is no expiration of the tokens in your large living language model.
When in doubt don’t Google it. Ask your own mind. Prompt yourself.
Give it time. Writing. Breathing. Prompting.
And… Smile.
fear : god > next | index
