Tag Archives: Joy

night walker

7 Oct

there is a green small blooming

of algae

that has come to the creek

that I walk over,

that I cross in the night

carrying my little baggie of bread for the turtles of all sizes

the blooming has covered the surface in chartreuse

which swirls now as the turtles swim beneath

oh, the mystery of a turtle’s mouth as it lunges

beneath the psychedelic dance of green

where to toss the bread becomes a guessing game

of chance, how can this night so much the same

as every night be a world transformed yet again?

no sky is ever the same

no tide rises to the exact same spot, ever

all pleasure is solitary and small and everything

there are so very few who could understand

how secretly happy I am, in the dark,

so alone

at last no one to tell about my small singular

exploding life

a woman is a blessed being

in her blossoming

which comes long after

anyone can see

yet her fragrance

is a powerful potion

blessing invisibly, generously

behind a gypsy grin and laugh

a twirling skirt of ascension.

Joy Seems Not a Choice

17 Feb

drawing-joy-wojtek-kowalski

Drawing Joy – Wojek Kowalski

In these 46 years, some things get clearer.  One thing would be this – You can’t strong arm your way into happiness.

Joy appears to be a symptom of dwelling in the still point self before identification.

My path has taken me to many environments of learning and ignorance, wealth and poverty,  acceptance and rejection, just like most of us, after a while of being here on this planet!  And without a doubt, my joy did not correspond to the outward manifestation of house, body, income, mode of transportation, or social circles.  In fact, the inverse seemed to apply.  Some of my most suffering times were in the midst of worldly defined happiness.

Currently,  I walk without a partner, my daughters are a challenge daily, my future doesn’t require me to wear shades, I’m not as financial secure as I used to be, cough cough; I understate!  But my joy overflowth, often.

When that joy feels lost as often can happen, and the mind devises ways to get it back,  I can imagine myself trapped in those gears.  Enough times, I watch those spiked wheels spin so that, for me, the moments of feeling trapped in sorrow decrease.  Or so it seems.

Joy can flow so strangely in, where the world says it is wholly uncalled for – so inappropriately at times!   I have to contain myself from dancing and sit quietly accepting what is, open-armed waiting for others to join me.  While there is no joy in the suffering of others,  joy springs within the self, it does, when it will, without choice.

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