Thursday, February 4, 2016
I have been thinking about joy this week. Even the word "joy" brings about a shift in energy, doesn't it? I instinctively begin reaching, as if I could grasp that beautiful feeling, holding it close. I taught a few yoga classes today, and I read this quote throughout my classes.
"Difficult times are your greatest opportunity to practice yourself into joy."
~The Secret Scrolls by Rhonda Byrne
Does that mean you choose joy or happiness? No, not all of the time, or at least I don't think so...
I disagree with telling people that they can choose to be happy. It isn't a light switch that you can turn on and off, and no one would choose depression. Like anything you are striving for in life, it is a practice. Especially when I am in the depths of winter, and the shadows lengthen over me, I pursue those experiences and people that bring me joy. Close your eyes, and breathe joy; Taste joy, smell, joy, touch and remember those times of complete surrender. Anything you are passionate about takes practice. We may have an innate gift or talent, but it still takes refinement to excel in anything. Writing brings me joy. I can lose myself in the process, and is as healing and necessary to me as breathing. I often struggle to stay present. I am a worrier by nature, but the process of observation draws me into the present moment. All five senses are activated, and I feel with the entirety of who I am. I not only see who I am, but everything around me becomes crystal clear as well. It is magical, and I don't take it for granted. I also forget...I fall into the darkness. My breath becomes shallow, I hide in dusty corners, and I forget the light, which is all of the joy I have ever known. It is a practice, this joy I speak of...
When you forget, make a "joy list." Pull it out in times of darkness. Close your eyes, and breathe. Remember joy, cultivate joy, and practice. Difficult times are a wake up call.
"For hours, we lay in it, wanting for nothing, turning blades of grass into butterflies with just the touch of our fingers, whatever we imagined made real by our will and desire."