High on Happiness

Archive for the ‘The Feeling of Happiness’ Category

.

.

Oh, the fantasies that fill the air this magical, wondrous night!  The wee ones can hardly go to sleep, and the grown-ups push sleep away as they finish casting their spells.

Visions of sugarplums dance on the wind, and reindeer fly the skies.  And legends come alive.  Oh yes, legends become alive and true.

And hearts are filled with hope and with dreams, and souls are filled with light.  And even those on whom sorrow falls feel the love beneath all their longing.

And all our dreams rise: may our best hopes come true.  May there be peace and happy endings.

And high above, the twinkling stars shine, and the Great Yes bows down to enfold us.

Make Merry, Oh Children of the Earth, and lift your glasses high.   The King has come!  The King has come!  And His glory paints the sky.

We, the ivy, sing now our songs of delight in eternal life.  We bid you sing along with us, to play your drums and fife.

Oh, sing of friendship and fortune, of peace spread over the earth.  Sing in jubilation for the Sky God’s wondrous birth.

Bring on your feasts and light your lights, and let your hearts rejoice.  The Sun behind the sun is here!  Lend happiness your voice.

Make this day a festival!  Be led by joy and mirth!  The King has come, and is pouring his love over all who dwell on earth.

Sometimes, when rain falls this time of year, I think it has come in empathy for all the broken hearts, to grieve with them, to comfort them in their sorrow.  Loss is especially difficult to bear when the rest of the world is wrapped in tinsel and bright song.

And so sometimes, the rain comes, pulling its soft clouds over the dazzling sky, to sing its quiet melodies of compassion. “I am with you; I understand,” it sings.  “You are not alone.”

Sometimes it will rain all day and into the night, so great is the need for its healing.

And when it goes, it leaves behind lustrous tokens of its visit, a final message of healing and hope, small pearls of joy, reflecting the morning’s promise.  The light shall return.  Always, the light shall return.

.

There are peoples who live in the far north whose language has many words for snow.  The big lacy flakes and the round icy ones have their own names.

As I looked out my window this morning I nodded knowingly.  “Sneaky snow,” I said.  That’s how the name translates for the nearly invisible flakes that softened my view.  They’re called that, I’m told, because these tiny flecks are the kind that stick and cover the ground.

It took them all day to do it.

But by late afternoon, their work was complete.  The hillside was shrouded in silent white and looked for all the world like a painting for a Christmas card.

I was sure deer would walk past at any moment, and I watched for a while.  But none appeared.

Tomorrow I will look for tracks coming down the hill.

The days are brief, so while the sun shines, let us be merry, my friend.  I’ll wear my party dress, you wear your green, and we together we will sing songs.

We’ll sing for the seasons, and for the high skies, and sing for the rain falling down.  We’ll sing for the darkness, and sing for the light, for the clouds, for the moonlight and stars.

We’ll sing for the creatures who romp and who fly, and for those who slither and swim.  We’ll sing for the flowers and berries so bright, for the bushes and grasses and trees.

We’ll sing for hope, and we’ll sing for love, and for hearts that are bursting with joy.

Soon the snow will blanket the ground, so let us be merry and sing.

Whatever you have become, wherever you may be, I send you wishes, my child, on the wind.

May your days be filled with discovery and gladness.  May you walk with fine companions down smooth and sunlit roads.

May your heart be filled with hope and celebration.  May your laughter fill the skies.

May you find comfort for any pain, healing for any hurt, peace for any turmoil that may ruffle your soul.

May you continue to be playful and kind, and to brighten the spirits of all who surround you.

May you revel in adventure, and rest on sandy shores beneath a setting sun.

May beauty surround you; may goodness and truth be yours.

May you know that you will live in my heart forever, and will be forever loved.

Shadows fall across paths of everyone—you, me, the lady down the street.   All of us have our hours of darkness, of pain, of loneliness and doubt.

We’re weak then, when the color is cut from our worlds.  We find no solace even in our fondest memories.  And hope only leaves a bitter taste in our mouths.

I understand; I have walked my share of miles through the places where light is gone.  And I can tell you this about shadows: Behind them is the light. And whatever stands between it and you cannot keep it from you forever.

Say to yourself, “This is only a shadow,” and hold a comforting pillow of peace in your arms.  Shadows pass.  And even in the darkness, you are known and infinitely loved.

The car radio’s music lingered in my mind as I headed down the trail to the lake and I found myself humming “The 12 Days of Christmas” as I strode along.

“What will my True Love give me today?”  I wondered, thinking of the Lord of Beauty.

Just then, they came into view—a flock of geese floating silently on the lake just above the dam, their sturdy, long-necked bodies mirrored perfectly on its surface.   In a mesmerizing ballet they swam, graceful and sure, with patterns that mimicked their ordered flight.

I watched until their dance took them to the far edge of the lake.  Then I played with the Christmas carol’s lyrics as I walked back to the car.  “Six swans a laying, seven geese and then some,” I laughed.  Who could ask for more?

Morning came with its thin light.  Even the gold reflecting from the distant hills couldn’t warm it.  I woke from cozy dreams beneath heaps of soft blankets, my cat curled against my belly, purring.

I lay there for quite some time, watching dreams and half dreams swirl slowly into waking.

Finally I rose and pulled back the window curtain, and there, to my surprise, was a masterpiece, an original Jack Frost!

“Jack’s back!” I shouted with delight.  Tink yawned.

“Jack’s back!” I told her.  “See?”

How could she know the thrill I was feeling?   That these exquisite designs had mesmerized me since I was a child?

I bent to examine this first-of-the-season gift more closely and ran my fingers across the window’s inner pane and smile.  “Thanks, Jack,” I whisper.  “Welcome back.”

The majesty of the Yes flows forth, unrolling the heavens, spangling them with sparkling joy.   It sweeps the face of space and galaxy after galaxy appears, shimmering with its light.  Worlds tumble into being. Layer after layer it fills the void with unfathomable dreams.  It laughs and mankind appears and starfish and flowers, and its love enfolds every species and all their members in its tenderness forever.

The Yes is flowing forth, and heavens and nature sing.  On this day, on this planet, all of nature sings.