Pockets of Sunshine

The world can be a beautiful place.  Maybe not everywhere at the same time but a pocket here and a pocket there joy and happiness are exploding from earth's surface to the heavens.

I eat dinner tonight and I have enough to be full.  I look outside and it is pouring, as is the norm in Florida summer afternoons, and I am inside and dry.

I have my dog sitting on my lap and I feel loved.  He is the best kisser, you know.  When I walk in the door after a long day at work I pick him up and he holds my face with his paws and covers me with kisses.  He bends his head down so that it rests in the crook of my neck.  I try to give him his fill of love back and release him back to the floor when he is ready.

There are pockets of happiness.  Sometimes they are very hard to find and we feel like it is impossible.  There are dark times.  There is always going to be a challenge in one form or another as long as I am alive.

What I need to do is live my life as if I am taking a walk in a forest knowing that at times in my journey the sun has trouble breaking through the tops of the trees but there will be pockets of it, some small and some large, that will warm me and provide light as I hike along.  I may get lost but I need to know I will still have a path whether it is well worn or I am making it as I go.

I also need to remind myself that it is OK to stop to rest.  It is OK to be sad sometimes.  What is not OK is to let the darkness in and take root.  I need to walk through it because somewhere up ahead is another pocket of sunshine.

Sandbar

Yesterday in the later part of the afternoon Jim and I went to the beach. It was low tide and we walked out into the Gulf to the first sandbar. It had taken us a trip first down the shoreline and then back up until we found a section of water that was calm enough for us to traverse without being pulled or pushed by the chaotic turbulence and strong undertow.

There were other sandbars further out but I had to stop at the first one. It was glorious. I knelt down into the sandy bottom that I could see through the water. I looked upward and saw the sun lowering in the sky reflecting in the waves as they continued to smash against each other tumultuously. I was in awe.

A forest holds its own beauty. I grew up loving, playing in, and seeking and finding solace in the woods. Their scent, the sound of the forest floor as one walks, the enchanting way the sun dapples it as it peeks around the branches high up. The trees talk. My heart finds peace in the forest.

But the wilds of the Gulf hold a different kind of allure. It is power without mercy or humility that produces tranquility within my soul. What words does language hold that can come close to describing such a deep down inner core emotional reaction? I could have sat there forever and just watched as Jim's arms kept me anchored. Even as we got up to go back to shore, I had to turn around, stop, and look just one more time.