We were puddle jumping in New York for Thanksgiving
Coat held tight against me
The view and lights
Romancing themselves into me.
At one moment during the trip the boys were wrestling with Derek on the grey living room rug. Wren lay close by waving her little hands frantically in the air in the late afternoon light. Right in that moment I felt exploding joy radiate through all of me.
Joyful experiences mean more when we are fully conscious of the alternatives or contrasts around us. We are with out context or a frame of reference for what it means to feel true joy without having also experienced sadness in our lives. Because of this simple concept I find there is a beauty in opposition.
The holidays are here. JOY is printed on mugs of coco and sung in vibrato. In our 12-month trip around the sun, it is when our planet is at its farthest, when the nights are at their longest, that we have decided to invoke joy with such intention.
Regardless of your creed or belief, these holidays are a time for us to reach for the ultimate source of joy in our lives. For us it’s the love of God. We see this love manifest in the birth of a baby. A gift to all, to guide and save. I believe if you can live outside yourself by loving others you will have joy, and a joyful soul is of a divine nature.
As our boys watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade pass by them I realized that we sit at the edge of this special time.
Joy to their world.
May you get as much joy out of the season as our boys on Central Park West watching the Pillsbury Doughboy flying overhead.