I've been quite the shepherd lately, a herder (possibly a hoarder) of unharnessed delight.
To name a few, little things, as they always are:
This book I'm reading.
This festival last weekend, full of pickers, fiddlers, foot stompers, dancers and musicians--memories that will serve as my musical muse for months to come...
This new to me music that had the entire field of festivarians up on their feet dancing.
And lastly, the hummingbirds visiting our new feeder at the kitchen window. Most birds bring me joy, but these flutterers bring utter awe to everyone in my family.
Good things happen all the time, but delight happens when the child inside stirs and takes over thought and limb--like an ignition switch to heaven on earth. I am addicted to this kind of delight. When this child breathes fresh air, it is the closest I ever get to the sweetness that is an unfettered soul.
Soul talk, you know I love to. Recently I discovered that there is a name for my idealistic musings. A romantic. I do believe the darkest things about this human life, this human world, can be tempered, remedied and reconciled by the goodness of humanity, despite our flawed natures and self-destructive ways. I do believe that all of us have a way out of the complex maze that is our mind. Darkness is hinged to light no matter how often despair takes hold. Two sisters of the same seed. Delight, joy, beauty, creativity, imagination, the appreciation and pursuit of these things provide the nectar of life, the things that we cannot live without. No matter what we do with our lives, is it not the nectar we always hunt for, tangible or imagined? I relish in experiencing feelings and emotions, seek to understand them, look to nature for some explanation, and hunger for intuitive musings, maybe even as signs from a distant beyond. Idealistic--yes, blinded--maybe, naive---sometimes, with a child's heart and an open mind, certainly, I try. I try to enjoy what I have, with all that I am, now, here, and today. My greatest fear is to be that grumpy old woman full of spite, wondering how time has whittled me down to bare nubs cloaked in worn, leathery skin. I have no desire to live a long life without the joy to fill it's marrow. And may that joy be revealed to me in all ways, no matter when the night falls.
I must have spent half my day yesterday watching the hummingbirds, waiting for them, listening for that trill. At one point there were five of them swooping--dancing and floating, as I watched them delightfully from behind the glass. I was frozen for minutes at a time as they hovered, perched, then hovered again, even watching me, too, through the same looking glass.
Delightful weekend to you all, dancers, hoverers, idealists, and romantics or not!!
xoxo
