Skip to main content

Joy

 


The first evening on the river brought off and on rain all night long.  I surrendered to it.  I also love being in a tent in a rainstorm.  

The morning of day two dawned with heavy clouds but no more rain.  Shannon suggested "Joy" as our group meditation theme, offering that he had invited her along on the trip.  I didn't know if I was ready for Joy, if I was capable of accepting Joy, but I sure wanted to try.  

After loading the boats, we all settled on the sand for our meditation on Joy.  

Joy.  Joy.  Joy.  Where are you?  Are you here?  Do I feel you? Joy.  Joy.  Joy.  I repeated the word in my head, hoping to feel some flicker of lightness.  I thought of being alone in the tent with the dogs in the rainstorm, of riding on Shannon's boat and how different it felt, of the glaring absence of the physical Scott on the trip.  I started to feel Infinite Sadness crawling up my spine.  I shook my head.

Joy.  Joy.  Joy.

And then Scott started talking in my ear, telling me hilarious things that I hold close to my heart.  I found myself biting my lip to keep from laughing.  I didn't want to disrupt the peaceful meditation, but the more I tried not to laugh, the more I found myself wanting to laugh.  Joy had arrived.  

I opened my eyes, smiling, and looked at the group.  Shannon was looking at the river and wearing a smile almost as big as mine.  He glanced at me, and we smiled.  Joy.

I looked at Lisa.  Her eyes were still closed, but her mouth was turned up in a full smile.  Joy.

Brett, too, still had his eyes closed, and he, too, wore a smile on his face.  

Joy had infiltrated the group, and she was a welcome guest.  

We boarded our boats and set off for the day.  I wanted to do some rowing, so took over for Shannon in some of the smaller rapids.  At one point, I hit a rogue rock in the middle of some no-name rapid and got hung up.  Before, I would have been frustrated with myself for not paying attention and making a mistake.  Who hits a random rock in the middle of the river?  This time, with Surrender and Joy fully present in the boat, Shannon and I both laughed and laughed as we dislodged the boat from the rock and went on our merry way.

We arrived at the hot springs after lunch, just as a large group was leaving.  Our timing was perfect.  

"Things always work out as they are supposed to," said Lisa as we climbed our way up the steep creek to the hot pool.  

We soaked for a bit, then made our way back to the boats and rowed to camp.  

After dinner, we did our second meditation of the day, again with the intention of Joy.  

Joy.  Joy.  Joy.  This time, Joy filled my heart to the brim.  For the first time since THAT DAY, I felt truly happy.  To the core, all-encompassing, fully immersive, heart-opening happiness.  

I heard Scott whisper in my ear, Yes.  Yes.  This is what it's all about.  Be happy.  Feel Joy.  This is all I have ever wanted for you.  

I opened my eyes, smiling so big my cheeks hurt.  I looked at Shannon, then Lisa, then Brett.  They all had their eyes open, and they were all smiling as big as me.  Yes.  Joy had officially arrived.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Heavy

  I keep wondering if I'm approaching my breaking point.  What does that look like? It's too much.  But I've been saying it's too much for a while now.  So when is it actually too much? I pushed "Send" and my text whooshed off to my best friend, Denise.  Three dots immediately popped up on my screen.   You're stronger than you think.  Tell your brain to shut up.  You got this! I smiled at her reply, even if I doubted her confidence. In August, my husband of 17 years died.  One day, he was alive, healthy, vibrant, and strong.  The next day, he was dead.  Just like that.  No warning.  No preparation.  In an instant, my world crumbled into a million tiny bits that flung themselves to the far corners of the solar system.  I couldn't fathom how to get through that day, or the next, or the next.  I remember thinking, What does November even look like?  Or next summer?  How do I even get there? ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Delivery

  I met a friend at a coffee shop yesterday afternoon for our monthly catch-up.  I arrived first, and while I was placing my order, I saw a former client of mine.  We hadn't seen each other in quite a while, and greeted each other with smiles and a hug.   I know what's coming. We exchanged pleasantries and small talk.   Any minute now... She asked a few questions about how my work was going and told me about her workouts and what she had been doing.   Any second now... And then she asked it.  The question I knew was coming.   "How's your husband doing?" "My husband died."  No hesitation.  No preamble.  No introduction.   She recoiled, took a step back, hand on her chest, jaw wide open. "Oh my God," she stammered.  "I'm so sorry.  I don't...I can't...I'm so sorry." I gave her a sympathetic smile.  "I'm sorry," I offered.  "I'm still working on my delivery.  I'm not quite sure how...
Post a Comment
Read more

Signs

  It was Tuesday, March 10, last week.  It was my 47th birthday.  It was the first birthday since Scott died.  It was the first birthday since my mom moved into memory care.  Shannon was in Oregon working.  The alarm went off that morning at 4:00 am.  I had to be out the door for dog walk by 4:45 to get to my first clients by 6:30.  At 4:30, I started getting ready.  Put on my walking clothes, layering appropriately.  Put on the glowing green dog collars.  Grabbed my flashlight so I could see where I was going in the heavy darkness that is 4:45 am.   The dogs and I headed across the pasture on the same route we've done nearly every day since Scott died, the same walk he had done nearly every day since we moved into our house.  We made our way along the creek, up the switchbacks, onto the bench behind the house.  As we walked, I was throwing myself a pity party.  Here I was, once again walking in the darkness...
Post a Comment
Read more