Moments of Joy II
“If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it.”
I woke up this morning to the sound of foghorns drifting across the Straight of Georgia. What a mournful sound to wake up to after a night of soundless sleep, a rarity these days. I stretched luxuriously and opened my eyes to see fog blanketing our field. A damp breeze was blowing in through the open windows, and I turned the heat on while I made coffee, just long enough to take the chill out of the air. I am now curled up in bed again, listening to John Tavener’s Song for Athene, sung by the Westminster Abbey Choir. This has become my routine on weekend mornings – writing in bed while enjoying a cup of French Roast coffee and listening to gentle music. I find myself smiling as I realize that what I am feeling is joy.
These last months have dulled my senses. My threshold for joy shifted sometime in the spring. I have felt overwhelmed by anxiety, uncertainty, and grief. But this past week, there has been a glimmer of hope as fleeting moments of joy have begun to re-surface. These joyful moments appear to fall into three categories: nature, connections, and my capacity to concentrate.
Nature
Our resident ravens are once again cooing loving songs to each other. I only saw one raven for most of the summer. I’m not sure whether he has found a new mate, or whether his old mate has re-appeared, but I love listening to them once again murmur sweet nothings.
There is at least one – if not more – tree frogs living on our deck. I try and sneak up to take a peek, but she falls silent as soon as I approach. Then I went to check the gauge on the propane tank and was delighted to find, sitting right on top of the gauge, a bright green tree frog. I didn’t have the heart to move her - I’ll check the gauge another time.
I enjoyed a perfect island afternoon on Tuesday, after the sun broke through the clouds. I poured myself an ice-cold glass of Stoneleigh, my favourite white wine, and then snuggled into an Adirondack chair on the deck, with my old dog curled up at my feet. I sat for over an hour, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my face and the birdsong all around me, chickadees, flickers, towhees and even a visit from a kingfisher. Kingfishers were my father’s favourite bird and whenever one stops by our pond, I imagine my father popping by to see if I’m okay. I suppose that counts for a double moment of joy, nature and connection!
Connections
I chatted with an old friend earlier this week, someone who I had lost touch with many years ago. I love it when I can pick up a conversation with a friend after more than 10 years and it is like we spoke yesterday. I’m so glad she reached out.
Anticipation! Next month I am heading off on a 3-day weekend with my girls. We have rented a cottage by a river, with a fireplace and a deck. We will play cribbage, drink wine, read, and witness the return of hundreds of eagles. It has been too long since our last mother-daughter weekend. And then in January, I head off with my husband for a two-week holiday. It is not often we enjoy holidays together lasting longer than a week. We will escape to our island home for a week and then head to another cabin by another body of water, one of our favourite get-away locations. The anticipation of alone time with my family, who I adore, is almost as good as getting away with them.
The Capacity to Concentrate
This one took me by surprise! Like many of you, I haven’t been able to finish a page in a book without forgetting what I have read, or drifting off to check if there is anything new on my Facebook feed. But after six months of worrying about my wandering mind, my ability to stay focused is coming back!
I am once again able to read books from start to finish, without losing the plot. I have not been able to do that since pre-COVID days. I have read three books this week that absolutely captivated me, and interestingly, all three of these books were a slight deviation from what I normally read. The Company We Keep by Frances Itani was a story of grief, relationships, and aging. Jocelyne Saucier’s book And the Birds Rained Down, was also a story of grief, relationships, aging, and so much more. And yesterday I read The Giver of Stars by Jojo Mayes far into the night, almost falling asleep over the last few pages. Another page-turner.
I have also been working this week. I have started scheduling and developing the content for future Women Rowing North: Writing Our Life Stories workshops. Hours have flown by, spent looking for just the right quotes and poems, developing writing prompts, crafting activities to nudge memories, and developing content. It has been a long time since I have been able to lose myself in my work.
I rejoice at being able to feel these moments of joy once again, although I am not quite sure what the turning point has been. Maybe I am less worried about the future. Maybe it is the wisdom of age, knowing what is in and out of my control. Or maybe it is this solitary island time I have gifted myself, time to disconnect from the world and root myself to the earth. At this point I really don’t care what the reason is, I just appreciate that I can once again embrace these sweet moments of joy.