Feast on Happy


The calendar on my computer is set to go off next Tuesday around this time to remind me I’ve got an appointment at 4 p.m. for my new shoes. 😀 Yep. Insurance will cover most of the cost. For the first time in my life my feet are gonna have shoes specially designed for them. Everything will be taken into account, from the calluses on my toes to the swelling in my knees. And I. will be able. to walk. Really walk again. Really go to those festivals and museums I’ve been avoiding because I’ve only got one to two hours of walking in me. I’m so jazzed!

Ah, forgive me for flipping into wonderland again. I’m high on life, on sunshine, and in general.

All I can say is whoopee! Yesterday was filled with follow thru; follow thru on taking a walk, follow thru on making that phone call to my insurance, follow thru on doing my sit ups. I was so efficient in all my tasks that it was only one in the afternoon when I finished everything I felt I ‘had’ to do. My focus turned to doing something for me. An innocuous file named ‘January 6 stuff’ on my desktop roused my curiosity. What the hell was that? I opened it and read something I’d started – on the 6th of January, obviously – and it. was. brilliant. The first paragraph grabbed me, held me, made me swallow down my own words with a thirst I rarely exhibit. When I ran out of words I’d written, I began to write more. I picked up the tone of the story in an instant. Usually I find that difficult to do, but not in this case. The voice is too powerful, too raw. I just don’t know where the hell it’s headed. At the moment, the entire thing is a monologue, rather like my posts out here. There’s a beauty in this character’s words, something beyond what I’d normally touch on. I’ve no idea if it’s a he or a she. I’ve no idea what the character is doing or why he/she is there. Nonetheless, it’s a voice I can’t ignore. The urge to meld into him/her, to let him/her speak, is bloody overwhelming. Give up control to the character. Let them have their say.

The odd thing is, this character is very depressed. So when I go into that person, I feel that. I feel the heaviness again, the not caring about anything. Yet…when I pull back, I’ve created something that takes my breath away and infuses me with an energy and power that’s blowing my little mind. Seems like it should be the opposite, that going there should drain me and bring me down. Not that I’m complaining! But the odd effect it’s having on me is notable.

Today is jewel bright. The sun will slice your eyes open if you’re not careful. In shadows, frost still lurks. It mocks the daffodils that dot the hills and threatens to turn their hearts black with winter. The air scours out your lungs with every breath. I’m loving it. Loving the colors, the cold, the sun. Most of all, I love noticing how early the light now steals over Rotterdam. A month ago and I would have gone to the pool in the dark and returned home in the dark. Now I go in the dark but return in the beauty of early dawn light, that diffused color so complete in its softness that your eyeballs feel cushioned and you wonder how you can stand any other light for as long as you do.

‘Swim time’ is shifting to ‘breath time’. I’m not caring about exercise or raising my heart rate or feeling the burn. I’m slowing down, not pushing. As soon as my face goes in that water it’s all about watching my breath bubble out slowly, slowly. The tiles on the bottom of the pool drift by. Sometimes I think about counting them, but it always seems too much bother as I watch the bubbles move their globulous forms past my goggles. I keep going, not putting my feet down, resting only for three deep breaths at the end of every length. Fifty minutes before I felt like stopping. I’m rediscovering the zen of the pool, without pushing or trying to make it happen. Just allowing it.

On the heels of so many positive endorphin explosions going on in my head, I’m contemplating getting out and doing a few things today. Running a few more errands. Taking care of one or two things that I still want to get started. Finally going to the hairdresser and asking for an appointment. Silly of me, I know, but I’ve been getting more and more embarrassed to go and get an appointment the more my hair grows out. Kind of feels like going to the dentist when you KNOW you haven’t been brushing and flossing. Hairdressers are there to serve ME. I deserve that massaging when they wash your hair and the perfect coif you walk out with. Gonna get me some.

Speaking of there to serve me, fortune smiled on me this morning. As I came home after swimming I checked the post box; we get at least two postal deliveries a day, so checking it every time I come home has become a habit. Right now, I’m looking at a flyer for QoQo, which offers traditional Chinese massage including – get this – a special massage for ‘chronic pain patients’. Guess what MY treat is going to be when I have the money. 😀

Off I fly, drinking liquid sunshine (orange juice), listening to liquid sunshine (my own music), and dancing in liquid sunshine (just a metaphor). No thought for saving this up; I know that’s impossible. Instead I’ll dive in head first and feast on happy for a while.


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