I’ve already written about the activities of my day on Sunday. It’s the turning moment to Monday in North Carolina (EDT) and I’m winding down, trying to settle enough to sleep. I’m just feeling so happy. No particular cause. No assistive substances. No magical interaction with others. Just chores and tiny accomplishments.
Right there–that’s it! Tiny accomplishments. God, I love those. They sparkle through my blood and lift my spirits. They throw off all kinds of energy and juiciness–I’m big on living juicy. There’s no point in a neat, dry, precise life when great whooshes of juice can come flying through…. just from tiny accomplishments. I rearranged some furniture. I swept, I did some dishes. I solved a minor household problem. I remembered birdseed and fabric softener. I enjoyed my meal. I got a light in a dark corner.
There is nothing in that litany that justifies my present level of delight. It’s just a fucking gift of God. A glorious whoosh of juicy divine love. And it’s all mine, all yours too.
I bow my head in delighted acceptance of this wondrous divine blessing of a happy nature.