Feeling groovy

Quote of the day:

Slow down, you move too fast, you've got to make the morning last
Just kickin' down the cobble-stones, lookin' for fun and feelin' groovy

Feeling groovy

Hello lamp-post, what's cha knowing, I've come to watch your flowers growin'
Ain't cha got no rhymes for me, do-it-do-do, feelin' groovy

Feeling groovy

I've got no deeds to do, no promises to keep
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep
Let the morning time drop all its petals on me

Life I love you, all is groovy  (Simon and Garfunkel)

There was a moment yesterday as T. and I walked hand in hand in the brilliant sunshine, when I just had to stand still, stop and breath deeply. My chest was full to the brim and I was overwhelmed by a feeling that could only be described as joy. A large mockingbird flew from arbor to arbor singing every sound in its repertoire. The closer we came to the bird the more s/he sang. And, then, as we turned the corner, an enormous bush of little rose blossoms exploded bright yellow in full view right in front of us. We both gasped at its beauty.

And there it was, that feeling of joy. Tears filled my eyes and I was forced to stop and catch my breath. "Don't look now, " I said out loud, "I think this is what happiness must feel like."

I am talking about relief. If I have not yet reached the other side of my shadows, at least I caught a glimpse of the light. It feels a lot like forgiveness ... goodness ... guilt being washed away. I have always loved the scene in Out of Africa when Denys Finch Hatton (Robert Redford) washes Karen Blixen's (Meryl Streep) hair after a long day of safari. There is a relief in her face and tenderness in his that made me catch my breath almost as intensely as yesterday's feeling of joy. There was a similar feeling when an angel washes Jesus' feet after saving him from the crucifixion in a what-if scene in The Last Temptation of Christ. A moment of enormous relief, a gift of love and compassion to Karen by Denys, Jesus by an angel.

Now this all might sound a little bit dramatic, I know. But it was. Dramatic, I mean.

Out there in the beautiful day, with my life partner, celebrating his birthday, surrounded and supported by years of hard work to understand ourselves so that we might love each other all the more, I was given the greatest gift of all. Relief, joy ... happiness. Even for a moment it was dramatic. For I know all too well the value of moments that build on each other and before you know it they become pervasive and permanent and a part of who we are - who we become.

It has taken years of hard work to drive out toxicities in my brain and replace them with new and different experiences. It has often felt like pushing through an entangled, gloomy forest, bushwhacking my way through in the dark trying to find a path out of there. Advancing small steps forward each time only to regress and return almost to the beginning over and over again.

Yesterday I actually saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Yes indeed. And I wanted to share it with all my readers who have stood by me through some really dark and gloomy days, depressing posts and uncomfortable revelations. I appreciate your patience and support for, Lord knows, there are those who simply had enough of it and chose not to stick around.

More specifically, I wanted to write about it for me too. Because one of my strongest reservations about writing a book for teachers on emotional development and discipline was connected to the fact that I would not know how to describe joy or happiness. I did not want it to become a book only about anger, pain, suffering or, even, the human condition. I reminded myself this morning that back in January I began the challenging journey of exploring happiness. I even changed the name of my blog to enhance the trip.

So here I go ... plod, plod, plodding along ... continuing the journey ... wounded, flat-footed like Frank ... towards the light side of the moon.

Comments

[Jean]

How generously and lucidly you share it! All the best books are about oneself, I think. Not in a crass and egotistical sense, but in the sense of the writer having mined a nugget of what it is they, in particular, have to share. It sounds as though you are getting ready, Tamar, to start writing.

[Milt]

I visite your site every day, sadley I don't comment as often as I should. A great post deserves a great comment, great is not easy for me, I really have to work at common, you deserve better.

[Tamar]

Oh dear, Milt.
Thanks for your kind thoughts about my deserving "great" comments. Indeed, knowing that you are there accompanying me as I am there accompanying you - that's "great" enough for me. Thank you!

Jean,
I really like what you have to say here, reminding me that: "the best books are about oneself ... Not in a crass and egotistical sense, but in the sense of the writer having mined a nugget of what it is they, in particular, have to share."
You help me (as always) by reinforcing, validating and supporting, and then helping me think even more carefully about what it is I want to say when I write.

[Chancy]

Your description of finding happiness and joy was beautifully written. While reading it I had the thought that perhaps someone who is not "happy and joyful" every day as you describe yourself,appreciates more the small moments of serenity when they do come along.

[mary]

See, Tamar, I think it is we your readers who thank you for the honesty to share your discomforts. I have found it liberating to know I am not alone on the journey because of what you write.

And now that you are moving along the sunnier path to happiness, we'll be right there with you as well ...

And maybe some days, some posts, will be a mixture of the two - and that's fine too.

I have a sense it will be a good book. :-)

[Claude]

Such a great post, dear Tamar, thank you for sharing your joy with us.

[Natalie]

tamar, that AHA moment you so vividly describe is what makes most sense, when it happens, and puts everything else into perspective. Not to deny the shadow moments but to show that they are only one side of the story. What a relief, to know the picture is always clearer when we can tweak the "Contrast" slider...more brightness? A little more shade? Thanks for this beautiful demonstration.

[sherry]

Tamarika, I love love this post, It resonates so much with me, and what I, too, experience, I relate to the songs, (S&G), the mockingbird, all of it, it just gives me gooseflesh. I know these moments of pure glorius appreciation, and the holines of that experience, As I also know that ones I love less are holy as well, but it is that I just have a preference, I love it when I can embrace it all, Then, I am free!
I was so touched by this post, just drawn right in and was with you as I read it. I am reminded of how Whitman draws me into his poem, Crossing Brooklyn Ferry. (As I ferry back in time to cross there with him and them).
So aah, beautiful life! Beautiful life. You have shared it so perfectly.
Thank you!

[Adriana Bliss]

Thank you for sharing your profound moment with us, for enlightening us. What a beautiful entry.

[goldenlucy]

Milt is so right, Tamar. A great post deserves a great comment. But I can't think of one so I'll just say thanks for making my day so much richer. Absolutey moving.
lucyd

[Tamar]

Kindness all around in so many of your comments. I think that one day I might write a post entitled: "The kindness of bloggers."

Chancy, I think you are right that I am able to experience so poignantly those moments of joy especially because they are not every day feelings.

It is as Natalie describes it in her wonderful artistic metaphor: "What a relief, to know the picture is always clearer when we can tweak the "Contrast" slider...more brightness? A little more shade?"

Mary, I am grateful to hear that you appreciate my honesty and comforted to know that you understand that of course there will be a mixture - probably more shade than sun, I should imagine. Thanks for hanging in there with me!

Ah, and there are old friends and new sharing appreciative comments. Thank you, Adriana, Sherry, Claude, goldenlucyd ... thank you.

[ainelivia]

Strange, I too had a song going round in my head, it was Bobby Vee's (back in the sixties) The Night has a Thousand Eyes; it's the melody I recall and my teenage happiness.

Stranger still, that scene you mention in one of my favourite movies OOA, is definitely a moment of great tenderness and one I love to watch.

I suppose it is so easy to identify the down times, that it then becomes difficult to be still and recognise joy.

Though you've begun to do just that.

[Tamar]

ainelivia,
I have a hard time recalling "teenage happiness." I was so full of angst about how unattractive I was at the time - oh my!!