We can have a happy state of mind when ‘not everything’ is OK.
We are wholes. Whole things, whole people – and when we feel a hole in us, it feels sometimes like walking around all day with a hole in my sock. I know my toe is poking through it – I can feel it at every step, but nobody else knows because they can’t see that drama inside my shoe, can’t see the wiggling toe that doesn’t want to be awkwardly stuck through. Conscious. Every moment.
We can changes socks, throw away the hole and the sock it came with …
But when the hole is something else inside us, we can’t separate that bit from the whole of our being, can we?
What does anyone want?
Same thing, I expect, that everyone wants. Long happy life, good health, great relationships with everyone who matters – and being the kind of person who feels everyone matters …
You might say, ‘happiness, sure, but can you define that?’
Most of us rattle off words – concepts, feelings, experiences – easily describing moments of happy, possibly hours or days when happiness enveloped us like a warm blanket on a chilly morn.
We saw it, felt it, we were in its company. Wasn’t constant was it? Bits of this and that during a time that this other thing and that other thing weren’t troubling us.
Some people who’ve crossed my path have caused me to think – I want what they have, naïvely believing ‘what I saw’ was representative of their whole complete self.
But that’s it, isn’t it?
I am whole.
And full of holes.
All the time.
P.S. Isla’ party, a planned-perfect assortment of things four-year olds love to do, was a whirling series of synergy of moms and dads and toddlers – bouncy castles and princesses, hot dogs and sunshine. Quite the site to see as an aged-observer … triggered lots of memories when Carla and Krista were that age. My best time, perhaps I’m not a good party-animal, was with Isla was yesterday morning, some one-on-one quiet time – precious, unforgettable.
written / published from Calgary, AB
morning walk: 1C/34F, sturdy breeze, yesterday/last evening’s smoky haze has cleared, perfect blue, Gusta revisiting familiar sniffing spots to make sure nothing changed in her absence – refreshing, silent, but not feeling peaceful .. something’s wrestling – not sure I can pinpoint it yet
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