December 21, 2015

A Prescription for Joy.

As part of our nomadic life, my husband and I were housesitting in north L.A. County.

The house was amazing, perched on a cliff where we could watch the waves and sunsets.

But I was in a slump. I was sick with a weird virus thing, and on top of it had three—yes, three—Freddy Krueger-ish periods in one month.

I am peri-menopausal, hear me roar.

I was also feeling blue about illness, death, and divorce happening in my loving circle of family and friends.

As can happen when you’re down, I became what T. Harv Eker calls a crap magnet. Bad thoughts swirled around like metal shavings, collecting in the magnet of my mind.

To interrupt a plunge into the black hole of WTF?!?!?!, it seemed a good time to try a meditation I’d recently read about.

Lying on the couch, a cat at my feet, I breathed in love on my inhalation, and breathed out stress on my exhalation.

Then, softly, I asked how I could be of service, and how I could amp up my mojo.

What came to me is: Change is the truth of life. Nothing is going wrong. Be love.

Afterward, I went into the house’s amazing backyard and swung on this swing, overlooking the vast Pacific ocean.

Then I hula-hooped.

Swinging and hooping, I was no longer a 52-year-old woman; I was a timeless child.

Later, on a walk, I saw a woman struggling to pull one of three refuse cans up her steep driveway. I thought about how my mom always said, “If you want to feel better, help someone out.”

Then I thought, I might frighten her if I grab one of her garbage cans and haul it up to her house. She’s going to think I’m a murderer or a Jehovah’s Witness.

So I said, “Hi! Would you like some help? It’ll be my Random Act of Kindness.”

She laughed and said, “Sure!”

So I lugged her garbage can up, and she smiled and said, “Thanks.” I bounded down the road feeling the best I had in a long time.

We were here on the housesit a month.

I decided my daily routine would be this:

* meditate
* swing
* hula hoop
* write
* perform a random act of kindness.

It’s hard to think of a better prescription for joy.





Author: Kate Evans

Editor: Renée Picard

Image: author’s own


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