60 year old seeking joy

I wake in the morning and the mist is rising over the spruce. 

The geese are gathering all around me and preparing for the south. They are a mindful interruption of the stillness of the morning. I remember that I have made this same walk thousands of times. Yet every morning I look for something new. This morning it was the soft yellow petals like mallow in the yard. It was geese on both sides of the big sky above me. What is joy if not this?

My cousin says his father only sought contentment. And I said that was good enough. To have a steady level of being well, of believing in the beauty of each day. It is a kind of joy in itself. For contentment itself is a great pleasure. When we feel it we may be unaware of its goodness. For in contentment we are lost in the flow of life.

So seeking joy has been confused with seeking big things. It is not about a bow on a car, or an airplane ride. That is just a game show. It is about seeing the good in others. Joy is found in the bloom. When I watch a young girl grow into a strong woman, or a young man find the tenderness of adulthood I feel a kind of joy. 

Honestly sometimes when I see myself in the morning mirror and I make a face at myself I lift my shoulder in a quiet giggle...joy.

When the blue turns to aqua and then to green in my night sky I get this sense of delight that runs from head to my hands. That is joy.  

Seeing someone fall in love.

Touching the thin petal of a poppy.

Watching the steam rise from the kettle.

The soft light falling on my rug hooking frame at dawn.

The taste of toasted pine nuts on pasta.

The feel of a light sweater on a cool evening.

Do I  feel joy in these things? I can assure you I do.

And so on mornings when I wonder if I should be seeking more fun, more happiness, more joy, and I wonder how I should do that so I write myself a note like this. I remind myself that I do not have to go on a road trip or shop or dance and sing. Instead I can listen to my life for the sounds of sweetness. I can look into the eyes of a friend. I can watch a crow fly with a crab apple in its mouth. And in these things there are joy and contentment. In these things there is a life.