Happiness is Resting on Water

I noticed that I've been resisting to post because I have been waiting for that extra special something to take the main stage in my life. (Although going to college for a semester has put me "on stage.") On the other hand, there is this curious lightness of being in the air and a lack of eventfulness that is quite nice, actually. So I began to wonder… Why do I always harp so much about my search and desire for the inner calm, but when it actually comes my way, I easily dismiss it as unimportant or feel a little too plain within myself? The answer was in looking back on my pictures from Eden the other day. And right now it really feels as if I have been suspended by a calm and floating bliss: happiness is resting on water.

The reason I chose the image above is because it illustrates what I see from this state of "happy resting." From here I see my life as a beautiful collection of small compartments filled with seeds, gardens, trees, food, water, animals, rocks and soil. Some of these containers are filled with prettier parts, some have had more time to germinate, and some are more colorful than others. From this point of quietude though, I'm not choosing one thing to focus on. Instead, all these living boxes only prevail to form a big picture with a "You are Here" sign that places me on a trail-side map sign with random veins and arteries coming in.

Sure there are things that still need attention and work (piles of homework). Besides, we always feel the need to push forward no matter what, don’t we? If I could begin to tell you how that anticipation has burned and consumed me in the past few months and years. But not now. Now I am just sitting in this pool of tranquility, while all this other stuff remains out there to be solved, fixed and taken care of. Yet, I am content going on walks, taking the time to bake, watering the seedlings, loving my 2 hens, Luna and Night, eating mashed sweet potato yams and reading a magazine not pertaining to my classes. Not much indeed is happening. But somehow this mellowness warms me like the the floating sun on a winter-ish Friday. It rests on water, and it is enough. Love, Sharon