I left the door wide open, and my beloved visitor finally flew away. I knew it was inevitable. Even if I bolted the door, this quiet, pervasive happiness would have slipped as liquid gold, through the bars of my pretty little cage at Her leisure and whim. You can’t capture an electrically fresh, bud-bursting spring day in a jar. But I was amazed and delighted at how long She chose to stay and warm me from deep within. I should have recorded the days with little tick marks on the wall adjacent to the end of the couch that has a gaping (mostly figurative) indentation from where the heavyweight tag team of my butt and gravity work it over, day upon day. (I should really consider changing it up and sitting on the other side of the couch, or at the table or on the floor so that I am less of a buzzed zombie… maybe when spring comes.) (Zoiks!, I’m not even through the first paragraph, and I have uttered the forbidden word “should” TWICE!… Honestly, I like to say “should” even more, since it has gone so far out of fashion. It’s the rebel in me. Otherwise, what is the alternative? You just spend way too much time and energy groping about inside, like some new-age dork, to find shiner, more socially acceptable words to say the same damn thing– like– “It would be potentially life-affirming and transformationally potent to whisk my little ass on a romantic getaway to the other end of the couch.” I mean, sure it’s fun to talk that way. But sometimes I just wanna get the raw, plain idea out and move on with life.)
And now back to happiness. And lack thereof. Actually, I’m not lacking happiness this morning. But maaaan– the flavor of those days upon days (I think it must have been about a week straight) was soooo delicious. It was seemingly unconditional… I imagine, the unimpeded flavor of my soul. It was bright and ecstatically tremulous… a wide open canvas upon which God painted the colorful masterpiece of my days. And then I got a sore throat and the rain came back and Serena refused her afternoon nap, instead opting to play with the burner nobs on the stove while repeating “no, no, no” and making solid eye contact with me as I chopped delicata squash and collard greens for our soup. I’m not unhappy now…. But I don’t feel invincible and larger than Life, like I did for that scrumptious honey-moon-lit week.
A highly alluring byproduct of said happiness, is that I had literally NO expectations of Ed (the perpetually unshakable Married-Baby-Daddy-Love-of-my-Life, for those of you new to Athena Graceland), but instead was an unconditional outpouring of generosity, support, appreciation and romance. Haha, that must have been a nice little heart-spa vacation for him! I felt so damn whole in this happiness…. that I really didn’t give a hoot about the terms and conditions of my existence. I just wanted to give love. I’m pretty sure this inner climate is the natural state of the soul. I’m pretty sure that I peered through a sacred window into an impending inevitability. I’m pretty sure this is what we are all stalking, beneath the glitzy veneer of every ambition and hope and choice. This glorious wholeness. A profound, profuse generosity sourced by an unending, overflowing sense of fullness. An unconditional inner brightness that shines on Everything.
Lucky me. I saw it. I tasted it. It is real. Or at least it WAS. And now I am on the brink of sick and I wish I could stay in bed and sad Hemingway all day. Speaking of bed, I just had a flash of a dream from last night. It involved me trying to get into the swimming pool (to swim succulent laps), but being obstructed by circumstances. I’ve had a few of these lately. Which is not surprising. Because that’s my life. The swimming pool is a place where I am free, whole, happy, nourished. I want to swim sooooo bad. So good? But…. I am incessantly tethered to my most beloved fourteen month old daughter. Which is pure grace. But fuck. I want to swim.
And speaking of water… now the rain is smashing down from a saturated, pre-dawn sky and singing me a dramatic serenade. Suddenly all those notions of happiness and other-than-happiness and moments besides right now seem like a foreign language in which I have lost fluency. Not to mention the heavenly bite of paleo banana bread slathered in chunky peanut butter and salty, grass fed butter that is currently dissolving in my profusely salivating mouth. This sudden uprising of undeniable nowness doesn’t leave room for much else. But I must press ON with this gay parade of mind and meaning. Because writing is my passion. I simply must squeeze the juice from the simplicity of ISness, and drizzle it into the stiff shot of complexity that is a human life and mind and heart…. stir… and serve you up a cocktail sure to jolt you into a heightened state of God-drunk presence.
Gosh, Serena has been sleeping for twelve hours now… which means that she is due to wake up any second. I really wanna get these words out into the naked, sprawling corridors of the internet, where a handful of shimmering others might read, enjoy and benefit from them.
But allow me to splash first in the deep, vast waters of microcosmic awareness first. Ribboned into this swirl of recent happiness, there has been a felt sense of deep peace. I still feel it, like a full moon reflecting on a softly rippling, nocturnal lake. I believe these gifts of happiness and peace are a contribution to The World. I am not an “activist” in the classical sense of the word… nor do I aspire to be one. But I am pretty sure that the energies that move through me uplift the collective. Through untrained eyes, my passive stance of raising a tender, bright goddess in the woods, while doing humble, labor intensive jobs and investing in a sprawling bouquet of heart-full relationships might seem like a steaming heap of whoopdie-do. But it’s NOT. It’s a lavish slather of uplifting love up in the one heart we all share beneath the wondrous adventure of otherness in which we dance. Listen– I’m all for Otherness. A celebratory recognition of Oneness does not impede or negate the glorious play of duality that we are all exploring now.
I’m simply reminding myself and YOU that our lives and especially our LOVE, no matter how seemingly inconsequential and humble, MAKES A DIFFERENCE. So won’t you please join me, and gaily fling open that cage door at the edge of your identity…. take delight in all of the intricate and fascinating winged visitors who fly in and out at their whim and leisure in the name of Destiny, in the name of Grace…
In the name of Heaven dawning withIN.