by Phyllis Capanna © 2012 joyreport
Today was great. I woke up breathing and stayed that way all day. I also woke up sunburnt and was sunburnt all day, too. I learned that there’d been yet another shooting somewhere in the good ol’ U. S. of A. and after reading the news story, closed my smartphone and gazed up into the sky outside my window and felt an acute gratitude for having essentially no problems.
In addition to still having a roof over my head, enough food, etc. I also have stability and nothing threatening the basic spin of my world like many people do.
Besides gratitude, I felt, maybe for the first time ever, that I had an obligation to live this fu**ing gift of a life very well and asked, as usual, for guidance in that regard.
At some point during the day, I remembered to think about joy, as I have done every day of this thirty day project. What I wrote in my notebook was that joy is a state of consciousness and that being on the lookout for it got you halfway there.
Then something out of the ordinary happened: A Good Humor truck came down the camp road! The unmistakeable fake calliope loop of Scott Joplin’s “The Entertainer” announced its arrival as the square box of a truck crashed down the hill and stopped in front of Keneo, where an actual line of people formed to buy ice cream! Phone in one hand and camera in the other, I ran to catch a picture and managed to get a video as the truck left, still singing its unlikely little song.
Later, we went out for supper at Pine Rest (again), and had a nice visit with the usual assortment of friends, family, and summer visitors. The kids’ camp across the lake was having some sort of rock and roll extravaganza with strobe lights and loud music, so it wasn’t until we were walking back to our car away from the lake that we noticed the sky was strewn with stars. Still later, driving home, the bright oval moon hung above the houses as we approached town. I was so sleepy I nearly overshot the left turn into our street.
Honey-Bear, as usual, stood waiting to exit the car behind the driver’s seat, and I, as usual said, “Other side, doggie.” I opened the sliding back door and she hopped out the passenger side, and we all came in, carrying our usual array of bags, coolers, leashes, shoes, etc.
I’ve gotten used to the rhythm of our summer days. I wish it would stay August forever.
I know I said in the beginning that I wouldn’t fall back on my animals too often in these essays. But as we were all leaving Pine Rest tonight, Honey-Bear had settled and didn’t want to get up. I threw my cap on her head and took a couple of pictures while everybody stood around laughing and enjoying how adorable she looked.
One final word and then to bed with me: I hold out the vision, the hope, and the intention that somehow, through the same process of healing that brought me here, the human family, too, can find a way to heal.
What would our world be like if all we had to do was learn to enjoy it?
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