The other evening watching dark descending at dusk the two dogs jumped up on our laps in their unmitigated delight, we all found ourselves in an furry foursome embrace. Laughter burst forth from the depth of being and my mind sang Glorious Joy! Such a simple moment, no philosophical esoteric murmurings, just joy.
“The Joy of Being” is not just a random byline on our website, it holds the purpose of spreading what is beyond doubt a real state of being for no one can manufacture or pretend joy. Like Grace it arrives when it does, over time one realizes that it is always present though clouded minds and heavy hearts will not allow its presence to be felt. This is sad. So people, being people like apples being apples, (an Alan Watt’s reference that makes me smile) many trudge along the well hewn path of constructed societal narratives. Unhealed tormented childhoods propel one with the need to be accepted by others which leads them to dead ends. Dark spaces where they beat their heads against the wall in despair or any other dead end feeling of purposelessness. Self acceptance is out of reach not to mention self love, a far off concept that is studiously avoided.
Being Joy is attainable, embraced I find a gentle field of light swathing my body. My mind imagines a baby swaddled in a covering that is comforting, warm, and safe. Life with all its challenges can keep one running from one solution to another when all answers are available by allowing this gentle voice to guide.
We’ve had unusual rains this season, beautiful drenching downpours or hours of soft rain fall after sunset. The mornings on the balcony when the mist clears and the sun shines have awoken a state of being, the charge in the air saturated with water as the sun hits it has my eyes seeing the oneness of everything—energy sparkling in the light. In these blessed moments I momentarily merge with the field losing the separation that is mostly present in the comings and goings of everyday life.
This morning while greeting the day a thought came to me, a question to self. When was the first time I experienced joy? Something that I truly had to consider eventually coming to lingering memories of my childhood before the family became dysfunctional. My father taking me and my brothers out into a pine forest and teaching us to shoot a rifle, other times with him fishing for trout in the California Sierras at one of our favorite camp spots. Then like clouds drifting across an azure blue sky my body laying on the front lawn lost in the shapes forming and disappearing, those moments had the tint of eternity… time stopping and joy stepping in. After that and into my adulthood when life became a serious pursuit with all the doubts that encompassed me I look and do not find real joy. Happiness, even exhilaration though real joy I can not recall.
Joy returned later in life after the breaking apart of what I had constructed as my identity. How many times I crashed on the shores of loss and desolation are in the past now, the story beginning to fade. What brought joy back into my life were the very same things I recalled as a child. Walking hand in hand with my best friend on a snow covered path at dusk, crossing a bridge with a clear stream twinkling beneath our near silent foot falls.
Yesterday moved seamlessly from the herculean task of cleaning out a cluttered rain water soaked shed, items to the trash, others given to the gardener—the feeling of satisfaction as some semblance of order was put to the chaos strewn about. Plans emerge to build a watertight workspace. Work done for the moment comes with a deep exhaled sigh. The mundane world holds many delights and so grocery shopping turns into an adventure—perhaps harking back to the gather-hunter times of our not so distant past.
Last night’s dinner was to be a French baguette, good Brie cheese, some smoked meat with lots of butter and good wine. Of course this meal required a walk to a favorite reflecting pond at sunset with Maxine and Angel’s enthusiasm leading the way. An old Indian patched blanket was spread, the wine bottle uncorked as we savored the moment. The country meal with the dogs playing to their heart’s content. Racing around, splashing in the water and shaking their wet coats on us added to the laughter. Thoughts quietly spoken—a deeper pondering of life and its meaning expressed with moments of contemplative silence. The space between words has long been known to me as where real communion can take hold.
The reflecting pond.
Maxine meets deeper water — she’s starting to realize she can swim.
Angel never met a stick he wouldn’t retrieve.
The sun begins to set with rain clouds building to the East again so we pack our belongings and set off for home.
Sunset with my head resting on the blanket gazing at the sun… angles of light.
Angles of Light with Maxine.
A bouquet that can’t be purchased for any price — collected on the walk home.
The day’s adventures come to a close sitting around a campfire, burning remnants of the past, a wood shelf too long left out to the elements to be of use and beyond restoration meets a proper end—ash to ash. Sitting there mesmerized by the rising flames the two dogs join us on the bench, they too sensing something magical, paws are gently placed on our lap as communion of man, woman, and animal take me beyond what words can describe. Even now as I reach for words I cannot find them.
Gazing at the night sky, clouds part and stars shine between the moving shapes, a full moon rises first in the mist of clouds to her full bright light. We sit when big plopping rain drops fall on our backs. This is joy! The warmth of the fire, stars blazing in the sky and the clouds slow dance with scattered wet drops of rain falling from the night sky. One can only bow with the deepest humility that surely this is heaven on earth.
Humility means that we realistically account for where we are now and where we are going. This is the most startling way in which humility is fundamental. If we lose track of our basic reality or where we are heading, whatever happens down the line may be disastrous, even though in the eyes of the world we may seem to have made great progress materially. — Archbishop Salvatore J. Cordileone[/align]
“Humility comes from the Latin word humus, which means earth. Humility means lowliness, as in being close to the earth. But the earth is the ground upon which we walk. Humility is what grounds us in reality so that we can walk successfully through the many vicissitudes of life.”
