High on Happiness

Posts Tagged ‘Bliss’

The little crownvetch blossom could have been overwhelmed at the amount of work to be done.  Hundreds and hundreds of cells had to be fed and cared for, after all. Their timing had to be precise in order to open her petals.  Everyone had to put on the right color and stand in the right place in line.  But she didn’t give a thought to any of it.

Overwhelm wasn’t something she believed in.  She was confounded when she heard how much energy the humans poured into it.   But they were beings fond of great drama and that was just part of their play.

She, on the other hand, was a small roadside flower.  And her part was simply to bloom in the sun, and to experience the bliss of it in her heart.  She let the sun take care of the timing of things.  She left the care and nurture of the cells to it, too, and to its partners, the earth and the rain.

It was the job of the cells themselves to find their right colors and places, and she wholly trusted them to do so.

And so she lived with a divine nonchalance, experiencing her life as a flower, floating on the deep, deep bliss of being exactly who she was meant to be.

The sky and waters and all that lie above and below them leave their marks, etch their colors on your mind.   Everything you perceive is but an interpretation of the dance; the reality is too large for seeing.

It’s the paddling itself that enriches and grows you, the experience of moving through the dream, the way your interpretation shapes its flow.  It becomes whatever you name it.

Call it rough and the waters of the dream will roil and churn; call it calm and it will be so.  That’s its magic.  It reflects you to yourself and shows you the consequences of your naming it.

It paints your mind in layers, comprehending your meaning.  It knows whether you are intending adventure or fear when you order rough waters.  It knows whether the calm will evoke boredom from you or peace.

Paddle on; the journey is for your bliss and understanding.

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What an audacious palette you wield! So gaudy, so rich and bold!  Oh, Autumn, the leaves you brush with your colors are simply giddy with joy.

So it’s the end of summer’s days.  So the winter is coming.  Today Autumn is tap-dancing in, flinging her pigments to the winds.

See?  From here below, the leaves are a stained glass window whose picture says laughter’s the music the glad angels play, and each hue is a note in their song.

They’re like semaphores, bright as parrots’ wings, spelling happiness across the sky.

No wonder the children dance down the streets.  No wonder the lovers hold hands.

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Joy rides photons as if they were bobsleds, careening through space, zipping past stars, sliding through the curves of space-time into matter just for the sheer dazzle of it.

And once it gets there, it blazes into invisible color and erupts into soaring silent song.  It sparkles its bliss like confetti, flinging it with abandon into the waters and winds.

And you drink it and breathe it without even knowing and it tastes like harmony and when you’re filled with it all you can see is beauty and the dancing spectrum of light.

You think this is a fairy tale or some fantastic story.  But it’s the nearest that truth can squeeze into words to tell you that you’re made of joy, that it’s in you, forever and always.  Drink the water.  Breathe the air.

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