JOY AS A WEED - It's Everywhere!
On the subject of JOY today:
One of my friends: ...definitely worth cultivating. And it takes a lotta freakin' work.
Our other friend: Yes it does.
Me: It does? 😳 Maybe I'm doing it wrong.
I think it might be a biproduct of being pissed, grieving, curious, raaaaage, mopey, meh, raaaaage, curious whenever I feel them. Because joy is just as easy for me. It grows as rampantly as every other weed and wildflower in my garden. No cultivating needed.
I eat an orange...joy.
I get my mail with DHS paperwork...exhaustion-n-depression.
I get a flower bud on my cactus...joy.
I find out they've cut my foodstamps...raaaaage.
I take a nap, kitchen dance, eat another orange...joy.
Hear about riots or murders or shady, shifty shit...lose faith in humanity.
Hear Vader say, "It is pointless to resist" in my 4X a day neck PT alarm--be tickled.
The prickly cactus that bloomed all winter
My mom and I say we're "easily amused." I'm up-n-down like a toilet seat all day, every day. I guess I never expect joy to last any longer than it takes to eat an orange. Maybe that's why I find it everywhere like the prettiest of weeds. But then, I love the dandelions, creeper vines, and fungi as much as the peonies, roses, and orchids so... 🤔🤔🤔
I think the first years after my big crash created the phenomenon, and it got an upgrade after I was punched in the face and had all those seizures. (It's getting another upgrade over this past year.) Amidst new brain traumas, I had no choice: I felt it; I expressed it. I thought it; I spoke it. Later, when I got back the ability to choose expression or suppression, I realized I was happier running emotionally like a car and its exhaust.
I could be in misery but still be generally happy.
That's what a lot of people don't get about me. They think happy only looks and sounds like the twittering of birds or a serene burbling brook or celebratory fireworks. They think I'm only happy when I'm smiling or laughing.
There is the time for delayed reaction in expressing "negative" emotions (when I'm capable of it), but I try not to let it go more than a day. Humans don't like that about me in general. It's one of the many reasons I live alone, don't often socialize, and rarely speak what's on my mind or heart anymore except in my journal or on my blog that almost nobody knows exists. 😜
I think I also had to change my definition of joy. It's why I notice how sweet that orange tastes and take 1.5 minutes to wallow in bliss. Because while I waited around for what joy used to feel like in the absence of pain and emotional volatility--well, that wouldn't have come for several years. And that's a lonnnnng time to go without.
I've had to learn how to run joy simultaneously with grief and rage.
One of the many reasons people call me insane. Oh well. I'd rather be crazy ping-ponging and ogling the asphodel and crystal formations in the Underworld, than wishing my life away as I sit miserably in the dank and rot, because it's not springtime yet.
I mean heck...what if springtime never came back before I died? That's the reality I've been adjusting to in the past year or two. That'd be sad to have missed being happy just because I was sad and furious. I dunno if that makes any sense...
I'm glad you have your gardening and dancing and yoga and arts and your passion for food that you passed on to me. It's truly what keeps me sane(r than most people would ever guess than I am). Esp during the bad years like this past one. 😝💩🙃
Sending you oranges, fungi, and blossoms in the Underworld.
From winter to spring in the Ozarks
Welcome back, Persephone!
Also me today: What'd the boy mushroom say to the girl mushroom when he asked her out on a date?
My friends: What?
Me: He said, "C'mon, I promise we'll have a great time. I'm a real FunGi!"
Springtime around here isn't only fun & flowers.
There are the other two F-words.
But hey. At least there are things like this to spark joy:
Do not ask me why bath duckies make me so happy. But they do. I have a set of three chicks floating on Mama's back. I also have Lone Duckie. She's a pirate, yarrrrrr! Naturally, she lives upstairs on the Serenity fountain. (Browncoats, 4Evah!)
“The best way to choose what to keep and what to throw away is to take each item in one’s hand and ask: 'Does this spark joy?' If it does, keep it. If not, dispose of it. This is not only the simplest but also the most accurate yardstick by which to judge.”
~ Marie Kondō, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing
Me: Shweeeeeet...does this mean I can hold up Dain Bramage, injuries, and other similar bullshittery, ask the question, get the "Hells No" and dispose of it?
The Fates: *exchanging sniggering glances among the three of them...looking back at me* Bwahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!
Hekate: *leaning closer to whisper in my ear* Don't listen to them, dear. Of course you can. But would you truly want to?
Me: Huh. *Spock eyebrow* Fascinating...
Hades: Heeeeeeeeere, Persephone...
Kore (Springy Maiden Persephone): Confound it, Hades! I just got up here! Why do you DO this to me? You know I can't resist those damn daffodils.
I soooo wish photos had scratch-n-sniff!
These were heavenly. Talk about sparking joy!
Dance of the Hummin'bird:
Nose in every flower
CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE:
--UP NEXT: ORIENTALIST DREAMS - Following in the Footsteps of Ruth St. Denis
--OR if you enjoy these nature shoots (and the Underworld snark), this is the one I did last fall while hunting Death - with my camera.
--THE NAVIGATION TABLE OF CONTENTS