From the Heart

A slice of introspection, from a relatively ordinary day.

First, before I write this blog, I want to make an assertion about who I am
that I can finally declare sans sheepishness and denial.

I am here for the emotional experience.

Any thrill I've been known to seek, any place that I run to, anything I love about myself and admire in the Universe is inseparably linked with my desire for emotional fulfillment.
The places I love most are the places that evoke the most in me.
The activities I have pursued have somehow brought emotional challenge, stimulation and fulfillment to my life.
The relationships I treasure with all the deepest affections of my heart are those that travel limitlessly through the dynamics of life - unconditional, uncircumstantial.

I'm all about the journey. I could care less for the destination most of the time. The destination is the end of the chapter and the impetus for a new beginning.

I write every day, and blog very infrequently. I've been reserved to the idea of blogging because it's nearly impossible for me to write impersonally, and I've felt disinclined to throw my ponderings into the public sphere. I've come to look at it a little differently in the past week - a challenge to see if I can learn to let my words be open to interpretation, and learn to filter the personally sacred from the sacred existential common ground that we all share as a human family. Some of the best things in life need to be shared, like lungs need oxygen, lest we forget the common threads that tie us together. I've been forgetful.

SO. Now that the disclaimer is out there, here are some of the latest notes from my emotional journey.

Something in me is symptomatically falling in love, and I'm not sure why.

I walked the streets of Cottonwood Heights for hours yesterday, breathing deep, viewing the snow dusted Wasatch Front adoringly, laughing at myself, balancing on concrete ledges, listening to music, feeling very alive and pleased with reality as-is. I browsed the shelves of the library, visited with friends, got really tired and slept well.

And it just seemed like a perfect day.

The economy sucks, my schedule is whack, things are a mess all over the place.
I still had a perfect day. Because perfect is the acceptance of things as they are. Perfect, in my mind, is a state of peace with imperfection; embracing who you are, where you've been and where you realistically are and want to go. Without fear, pretention, or jealousy. Or doubt. Or anything nasty and unnerving that could obstruct the clarity and peace that is always, always alive and well in the Universe, available for the undistracted heart to appreciate.

After this dazzling, simple day, I concluded that that brand of happy thoughts is usually associated with falling in love. I guess I'm falling in love then, with the promise of an impending ski season, even with the prospect of economic doom, and always with the love of good friends and cherished family.