Leaning Toward Joy

It’s a crazy place, a bowling alley on the second floor of an old, rickety office building.  Walking up the wildly uneven steps, after navigating a series of unmarked street doors, one can hear a faint bowling-like rumble in the background.  Passing the mortgage office, the next door announces, “Candle Lanes—Candle Pin Bowling”.  Open the door and enter into the 1970’s, untouched and unvarnished—the world of candle pin bowling in the Berkshires comes alive.

It’s my 67^th birthday.  Ten of us gather in celebratory revelry in the upstairs lanes.  We have the whole place to ourselves, which is strangely freeing.  Something about the pure kitsch of it, the individual murals of rural scenes over each lane, the multi-colored small bowling balls, the familiar clanging sounds of a pursuit from easier days, elation is ignited in each of us.  Silliness emerges—we hoot and holler, urging each other on.  Playing in two “teams”, the competition becomes ridiculously delightful.  “You were robbed.”  “Go get ‘em.”  “Yes, yes, YES.”

I find myself washed with delight.  As I lean further and further into the ecstatic joy that is unleashed, relaxation floods over me.  I am wild and hoarse with yelling, delighted by every move and moment with my friends.  We all manage, somehow, in this brief interlude on North Street, to lean toward joy, to allow the ridiculous, to put our adult selves to the side.  We all are freed in the leaning.

As we add up scores, I receive the miracle: my score is 67, 67 on my 67^th birthday!  I take it as an affirmation from the universe, life’s partnering with me, an omen that this New Year will be abundantly stocked with joy, laughter and possibility.

We leave each other after 90 minutes of hilarity, which is an abundance of both of bowling and ridiculousness.  We bid each other adieu, and head toward our separate cars, opened and touched and tingling with the joy of it all.

Dear Friends, lean toward joy this holiday season!  As the season turns, as the light returns to the day, as winter enters our world, let the flush of joy seep into your hearts.  Do the ridiculous—embrace the silly.  Look for a totally out-of-the-box way to just simply let go. You deserve it.  Happy Solstice to all.

“I’m Younger Than That Now…”²

Dear Little Nan,

This is me, this is us—I’m all grown up and you are still little.  I’m writing to you as our birthday hovers.  There are a few things I want to tell you.  First, you are about the cutest thing I have ever seen on the planet.  I love your pants and your cool jacket—I wish I had them in grown up sizes right here and now.

Secondly—for your birthday present, here are my words of wisdom, prayer, and hope—from my grown up heart, going backwards in time, to fill up your child-heart:

Dear Heart—it will be hard.  It will be really hard for a long, long time.  And I want you to know—you will outlive the loneliness.  You will outlive the fear.  You are so brave and so strong.  Your heart will carry you through to the other side of so much struggle.  And what you will receive?  You will get everything—a sense of who you are as a good and brave woman, a family in which to live that is yours by choice, work that matters in which you shine and bless others, and a community of like-minded and like-hearted people.  Most importantly, you will get a comfort and an ease in yourself beyond anything you can imagine.  And there will be so much love and so much connection around you.  This is the truth of your life.

My hope and my prayers for you are that, somewhere deep inside, you will know that I will be right there, guiding you forward.  I will be one breath away, always available to love you and bless you.  You are able.  You are equipped.  You will become beyond-magnificently—exactly who you are.  Just do your best.  And know that you are not alone.

Love, Grown-Up Aruni

Dear Readers, Dear Friends, 

What words of wisdom, prayer or hope would you offer from your adult self, to the heart, to the essence of the child that you were, to the child that you are?

^1,2  Dylan, Bob. I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now. “My Back Pages”. Another Side of Bob Dylan. Columbia Records. 1964

“Are You My Mommy?”

It was just another day amongst the days of my life—just another morning amongst the mornings of my life.  I walk, I pray, I stretch, I meditate, I eat and dash (no matter how early I wake, always that last-minute dash) out the door, heading toward work, our series of substandard dirt roads leading me toward the paved road, taking me up toward Swamp Road, the main artery of transport.

The morning sun is playing off my car window, tickling me with the memory of warmth.  Early autumn has erupted, the trees beginning their mad dash toward glory.  I’m happily comfortable inside my wool jacket, the cool temperatures still novel and embracing.

And up ahead, just by the beaver dam, I see three tiny little animal figures crossing the road, in a line.  Just like little ducks, from left to right, they march in single file behind their sibling leader.  Wait, are they cats?

No little kitties are these, but baby bobcats!  My positivity slams into me as a physical reaction, twinging the hairs around my neck and down my spine.  Last summer I biked upon their possible parent; she was coming out of the newly plowed field.  She stopped and looked at me with eyes that were wild and clear and deep and totally unimpressed with my humanity.  I yielded to her brilliance, as she sauntered away, muscles rippling with confidence and ultimate rhythm.

I stop in wonder.  These little guys have the same rippling shoulder muscles, tufted and pointed black ears; their presence does not call out, “Come and cuddle with me”, as we are so use to with our animal companions.  No, their presence says, in silent wonder, I am of the wild.  I am of the mystery.  I am the wild; I am the mystery.  This is my place upon which you walk and drive and live.  Do not even consider messing with me.  I am one with This, all, in ways you, mere human, can never comprehend.

Their third sibling, impacted by the presence of my car, turns and dashes back to the brush on the left, while his siblings make their way fearlessly across the road, now absorbed into the brush on the right.  I have a flash of codependent concern about this potentially weaker of the siblings, yet recognize I have no influence here; I have no potential impact.  It is just not my business.

With my head shaking in wonder, I continue along, car purring up the hill to turn onto Swamp.  Such mystery—so close—in every breath, there the natural world throbs with life.  How easy to forget—how remarkable to be blessed with such a morning reminder.

The concept of gratitude is terribly batted around during this holiday time. The word almost fades in meaning through its commercial overuse.   And yet what a moment it is seasonally, as the light drains from the day, to reconsider the powerful practice of finding the good in all. This ancient practice, called hakarat ha-tov in Jewish tradition, urges us to see, no matter what we are given, the seeds of blessings being planted in our day. The leap of yogic faith is exactly that; life is showing up to offer us the doorway away from the ego-driven “I”, toward the greater flow of positive life energy.

I no longer see gratitude as a noun (forgive me—once an English teacher, always?), a feeling that I sometimes do/sometimes do not experience. I understand and respect gratitude as a living and breathing practice, one that has to be cultivated and developed. We need to strengthen the muscle in us that can look for, identify, and play forward the blessings we receive, no matter the package in which they arrive on our doorstep.

How, then, does one practice, especially in this time of such world crisis and despair? Here are some simple specific practices with which I have experimented. See if any of these resonate for you:

1. Celebrating Heart-Blasts—at the end of the day, identify and write and/or talk about the one thing that day that blew your heart open, the one totally delightful/delicious/beautiful/grace-filled thing you witnessed. Share this with another for a deepening practice.

2. Inviting It In— at the beginning of the day, create a prayer of thanks for all that you will be receiving that day. YES! This is counter-intuitive, since we don’t know what we will be receiving. But what a powerful reframe it offers us. (My prayer for years was something like, “Thanks for everything you are going to give me in this day. I know what you are going to give me with be exactly what I need to grow closer to those parts of me that are You.)

3. Imagining Possibilities—consider the next day or two. What are you looking forward to? What might you be grateful for, up ahead? Another radical and crazy idea, imagine the possibility of creating positive moments, to shine down on you!

4. Playing It Forward—in response to a blessing, to a gift, or to a relief, offer this to another in an on-going form. What might that look like? (Example: after narrowly avoiding a car accident, practice mindful driving, letting other drivers in, relaxing within the speed limit, not pushing or rushing forward.)

Give yourself full permission to explore these practices. If one resonates for you, draw it into your life with loving commitment to self-practice. Through the lens of gratitude, the doors of abundance are flung open for us—we are bestowed with more and more grace. Focusing on what is, rather than what is not, frees us up to receive.

Through the lens of gratitude, may you and yours be blessed in this season of Thanks-Giving.