What a day. Starts with me drawing “The Tower” from my Tarot deck, which suggests something either horrifically cataclysmic or a simple paradigm shift. Naturally, I’m a little anxious with thoughts of calamity and the uncomfortable reality that there are things over which I have absolutely no control. So I choose, instead, to put it out there that joy will be my bubble for the day. I coil up inside that bubble, starting with early morning puppy snuggles, then wrap that joy around my job, and the amazing humans I get to do life with.
And they are amazing.
I work with people whose quirks and hearts and talents scream joy around every corner. It’s there for the asking. We sort of need to do something about the mold in the building, but absent that, there’s no more perfect place to do the daily.
Then there’s the joy I can’t possibly imagine. On my way to happy hour with the above mentioned humans, I’m car dancing at a red light (I have that propensity) at the same time a mother toting a car full of adolescent girls tosses liquid from her water bottle onto her windshield from her open-window, driver’s seat position (I’m guessing she’s out of fluid). The girls don’t hide in embarrassment, but instead giggle with their mom and make eye contact with me; we share a sweet thumbs up. In tender vulnerable ways we’re caught in a moment. Joy.
Happy hour is perfectly happy and I’m on my way home. But for three days, my car has been screaming for oil. I know I should probably take it in for the big expensive fix, but I now have two kids in college. I can choose the costly car repair, or one more semester where my babies have a little less debt. I pull into the Auto Zone parking lot. At the check-out counter with my 5W-30 synthetic motor oil, I ask if there are any paper funnels. At “no,” I take one of their daily advertisements, which, of course, I will curl into the tool of need. A tall brown man follows me out. Observing me, he asks, “You need a funnel?” I’m doing okay with the ads, but it would be nice. Unable to locate his, he finds an empty plastic bottle in his car, cuts off the bottom with his pocket knife, turns it on its head, creating the perfect funnel. I pour in the second quart, thank him and he wishes me well. And I can only think, I am the luckiest human in the world.
Thank you, Tower… and joy. It’s everywhere that we ask to see it. 2018 is going to be good.