The sun lowers on another beautiful day. That's actually a problem where I live; we have too many beautiful days each year, and thus are usually in drought conditions. But somehow we still manage to have green (or sorta green) lawns and ripe orchards and lush vineyards and happy cows. So it takes actual effort to appreciate the beauty of another lovely day, since we have an overabundance of them and overabundance leads people to take things for granted.
But today, I've noticed the depth of the clear blue sky and the richness of the fat green leaves and the sparkle of the little ripples the gentle wind created on the canal water. I felt the balmy air and was grateful. And maybe that's the first step.
Because I've forgotten what makes me really happy. I've been neglecting friends and duties and responsibilities, because weariness of soul creates weariness of body. And thus, I'm always tired. I need more sparkle. I can give light and love and nourishment to others; I can soothe their souls and save their lives and help them to remember that they matter; I can rock them to sleep and be the starlight that watches over them in the night and the sunlight that smiles them awake in the morning. And I deeply love doing those things.
But I can't remember what makes me really happy.
I love baking cookies and seeing them being devoured voraciously.
I love the sea and the bubbles that kiss my feet as I brace myself upon the windy shore.
I love the silence of the sunrise as it bravely creates a new day full of hope and promise.
I love the brilliance of the sunset as it mercifully carries the glaring brightness away.
I love the still coolness of the night, lit by magic and woven with mystery.
I love the silver moon and it's gentle light, sweet as a song only my soul can hear.
I love the trees in full leaf, rich and strong and alive!
I love the wind that blows carelessly, playfully, tauntingly, through the branches and through me.
I love the clouds that decorate the sky, the stars the glitter in the night, the smell of fresh-mown hay.
But what makes me happy?
What am I missing?
My God is not missing. My faith is not missing. My family adores me. My purpose is clear.
So what pulls me down to the dark recesses of my soul, dims the light within even while I shine it for others? I know not, save that the demons resent my work and my light and the love I give so easily, because those are my gifts. Perhaps that is actually the only answer.
I don't know what i'm missing. But if you find it, please give it to me.
In the meantime, it is my duty to see the blue sky and the green leaves that shine against it, to drink the breeze and sing the night. For gratitude is the beginning of happiness, and that is the road I choose. I can't promise to arrive very soon, but you're welcome to come along for the journey. We'll get there eventually, and my hand is soft and comforting.
