Sorrow and Joy

In yoga this afternoon I realised that today is not really any harder than any other day. Nor is this year really any harder than years past. There's some perspective, or lack of perspective, I have tended to hold that says "This is terrible. This is so hard." Whatever "this" is, it has felt debilitating, isolating, dramatic and grievous. So, if that thought pattern has been part of me, constitutionally or historically, how can I support myself when it arises? Yoga helps, obviously. The instigators of joy, listed below. Patience, care, tenderness, allowance. I don't believe the healing choice would be to "try" to rise above the pattern. At the same time, I hold the new eagle feather in our house and think about perspective.
Sometimes, the struggle I have felt recently seems so vast that I can't imagine what life raft will save me, other than the one I am constantly hoping for. What happens to me if that answer never comes? I just don't know. If that question makes me feel heartsick, is it better not to ask it?

In honor of February ennui, a list, Artist's Way  style:

What brings me joy

-My job. Not the one I quit today because I think it's making me sick, the other one, with young children, natural materials and a lot of singing. 

-Handwritten letters, to and from.

-Rich, thick hot chocolate.

-Bleeding on a mossy stone (a few months yet).

-Tending the garden (also to be). When the garden is full of flowers.

-Resting my hand on a dear friend's newborn babe for the first time.

-Insightful dreams.

-Spinning wool.

-Cuddles.

-The moment on a walk when I look up from my mind and remember that I live in astounding beauty.

-Strong, oily raspberry leaf tea.

-Deep forward bends on bolsters and breath.

-Writing. It shifts me.

-West African dance. Specifically, that move where we flap open our arms hard and angular like birds on the sand.

Sewing my own clothing. The treadle machine.

And now, I'm off for a cup of raspberry leaf on the couch, perhaps a nap and, later, more yoga and friends.

k.