Pleasures Of The Day

Coyote Calls to the Protectors-detailIt’s the Summer Solstice.  My husband calls this the lightest day.  (The Winter Solstice is, of course, the darkest day.)

We have sun and the bluest sky.  There’s a breeze running through the house, in and out the open windows, playing tag with itself.  It’s carrying the scents of cedars and maples, warm from the sun.  There is the dusty, sweet smell of arbutus leaves, and the perfect scent of wild roses blooming next to the studio window.

The house is quiet at the moment, only George Winston’s Forest album playing on my Ipod.

I am at my studio work table, writing.  Iced coffee at my side, in a decades-old McDonald’s “Good Morning” mug.  Another mug next to it, half full of cold water from our well.

This is Heaven.

My days are made of Heaven moments, when I remember to become present to my life and notice what is here.

These moments remind me of my Dad.  We began going for walks together when I was three and he was thirty-three.

Our walks were slow, not only because of my toddler legs.  We were slow because we were busy noticing beauty, pleasure, and joy, noticing the day we had around us.

Stop and notice the perfect, round, grey stone at our feet.  Notice the feel of the wind pushing against our bodies, and the sound it makes as it moves through the branches of the fir trees.  See the clouds scraping the tops of the hills, leaving tatters of white behind.  Notice the hot, earth smell of the dust clouds raised as we step, and the sound of crows we cannot see, squabbling over something they both desire.

This is beauty, pleasure, joy, receiving the gifts the day offers me.

Yesterday I didn’t do so well at noticing.  Now I am making up for it, deliberately moving slowly, feeling one by one the pleasures of today.

When I allow it to be, this is Heaven.

_______________________

In this post,

George Winston, music Forest.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Winston

One Of Those Days

joydiary13.page20and21.2018It should have been easy.  One phone call would have sorted it in less than sixty seconds.

I waited.  No phone call.  And then, a mess which is now getting sorted and settled.

It fascinates me how something small and simple, when it does not happen, can really muck up what follows.

I had other plans for today, which mainly consisted of sitting on the beach and writing.  Sadly, instead of the beach, ocean, and sun as my environment, I am in my studio, waiting for phone calls and a delivery company.  Do I sound upset?  Uh huh.  However, I am using this time and the dregs of my frustration wisely, and writing a blog post.

The point is, it’s one of those days where some things go sideways.  I could get angry, and I did.  What I didn’t do is stay angry.  I used to make that choice when my day went mucky.  I would stomp around, snapping and biting and letting myself be angry for the whole day.

I rarely make that choice any more.  When I do, it’s for an hour or two, not a day-full.  My heart has become bigger, and as a result the rest of me has become wiser.  The bigger my heart, the more I see in the world.  The more I see, the easier it is to let go of my old patterns and make a different choice.

What I see right now is me sitting in a studio space I love and which loves me right back.  Out of the windows I see sunlight, blossoming trees, perfect blue sky.  The air smells of pollen and Spring.  I hear silence, then birdsong, then silence again.  Waffles the cat, whose fur and eyes are vividly orange, wanders by, doing her routine check of where-everyone-and-everything-are in the house.  When she is done, she’ll go for a nap in the puddle of sunlight on the dining room floor.

I am reminded with everything my senses know in this moment, life is good.

I have choice—feel good or feel angry.  I choose to feel good.  The sideways mess will sort itself upright again.  I know it.