confessions of little happinesses

confession: a couple months ago while i was in california and needed to cheer myself up, i walked into a toy store and bought a little dragon who sticks out his tongue when you squeeze him. the cashier wrapped the little dragon in a festive cellophane bag tied with a ribbon and a lollipop. the gift-wrapped dragon sits on the bookcase closest to my desk with a couple other gifts i’ve bought for myself recently (small potted plants) and vision boards collaged from magazines i took from the “free” section of the library. every week i wait to see if i’ll give the dragon toy who sticks out his tongue to a kid i love or if i’ll love the kid inside me enough to keep it and unwrap it, to squeeze it and play with it. the dragon remains wrapped on the bookshelf today, but i gently pulled out the lollipop tied into its ribbon and am sucking on that lollipop now.

confession: when recounting a situation, if you only include half the details, the half that makes you look good (or the half that makes you look foolish), then you’re story-telling, not truth-telling. i prefer truth-telling even when it makes me seem small and hurt or angry and mean or brave and powerful. i prefer truth-telling because i want to be seen, heard, known, and understood. i don’t have excess energy to prop up a false ego that might entertain you but would deplete me. i’ve learned that if i keep my mouth shut, listen a lot, and say little that most people will project whatever story they desire about me, they’ll assign meaning and details to my silence, my clothes, my body, my dancing. their story isn’t the truth, only a story they’ve told themselves that they believe. please notice your story-telling. listen to the stories you tell about yourself to other people. pay attention to the stories you tell to yourself about other people. consider that the truth might be larger or something other than the stories you believe.

confession: i tried to explain self-compassion to someone who deeply matters to me. i rambled and babbled and my jumble of words didn’t clarify what i found difficult to describe. i’ve meditated on self-compassion since that conversation and decided the best way to explain any quality is to embody it. self-compassion is on my moment-by-moment to do list.

confession: at 12:30am the clothes dryer stopped, the air conditioner clicked off, and i was in bed with the lights off inside the quiet. it was the best moment of my day.

confession: hours after the shakey graves concert i finally changed the cd in my car that has been playing on repeat for many months. hello and welcome back to the bluesy gospel cd i mixed in 2003 and still sounds good to me.

confession: the best compliment i’ve received this spring: “you are a timeless aphrodite.”

confession: if happiness is found in the little things, i’ve got happiness in a vase of hot pink tulips, a 12-pack of diet dr. pepper in the fridge, and a full tank of gas in the car.

confession: speak to me of your happiness. i want to know, hear, feel, share, and boost your happiness.

Advertisements

About angel joy

love is an action verb. i live love in action.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s