JOY-FULL-NESS: Discovering Joy In Digestion And Ditty’s

There are things that stay with you you’d rather forget. There are things you’d rather remember that you forget. Then there are things you recall leaving you wonder why on earth you have.

Popping up somewhere from my lurking, murky, otherwise heavily armoured subconscious, is a kitsch, highly cringeworthy, Sunday school song falling into the category of memories we’d rather forget, but somehow seem to want to stick around.

“I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy
Down in my heart (where?)
Down in my heart (where?)
Down in my heart
I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy
Down in my heart (where?)
Down in my heart to stay”

Looking back, there’s a conjuring of young children scratching about under armpits, and inspecting belly buttons, searching eagerly for the ‘joy down in their heart’. Like, what does that even mean? Call it blind Calvinistic indoctrination or perhaps some lyricist’s oversimplified, clinquant attempt at confirming a global truth. I don’t recall if joy was ever allocated any descriptive adjectives or qualitative constructs, to aid us in our search, but somehow perhaps this inferred notion of joy, this feeling of pleasure and happiness, was an adequate pedagogical reference, manifesting itself into my juvenile, now adult psyche.

To move from Calvinism into the modern age of Evangelical exuberance, would mean that apart from rejigging the old jingle into a Hillsong chart topper, joy would need to shift from a personalised, modestly pious, self -contained experience, to an enlightened, effervescent, euphoria; a gaping chasm many of us would lack the confidence to jump, the ability to sustain, or authentically digest.

So how to move from a joy detox, to a joy smorgasbord without indigestion and other common aggravated bowel experiences associated with charismatic overindulgence? A menu of ‘take -away’ joy, offers a more measured, but short lived, often artificial, and remorseful experience. 5:2 eating plans require regular periodical abstinence and denial of all joy on some days – hardly a balanced approach. Juicing joy would be nourishing and healthy but short on long term oxytocins. While Paleo joy, may just involve the slaughter of innocent animals, a joyous oxymoron for many. Tapas options of appetizers or snacks, easily combinable to a moveable feast, seem to epitomise a well measured joy-full-ness. A culinary snapshot of what’s on offer, a taste of more to come, exploration of the exquisite, and satisfaction in the immediate. A wide arcing taste test of all things delicious, small, savoured, and shared, reminding us that, “Very little is needed to make a happy life” (Marcus Aurelius).

But joy isn’t always delivered on a plate or an easy recipe to follow. ‘Down in my heart’, may just require some serious excavating.  As with any archaeological undertaking, success comes from:

Awareness: Open your eyes and heart… treasure is everywhere.
Appreciation: Celebrate the small stuff, (apparently even broken bits of ancient pottery, and toenails).
Assiduity: Stick at it. Joy always shows up.
Action: Remember the tapas… Taste, savour, share.

“Find out where joy resides and give it a voice far beyond signing. For to miss the joy is to miss all” (Robert Louis Stevenson). So perhaps cringeworthy, childhood ditty’s, are in fact the initial impetus for the revelation of a greater whole. A scratch and sniff sentiment for the brave uncovering of, and abiding in, thankfulness. A juvenile reminder that “Joy is the echoing of God’s life within us” (Joseph Marmion). Be sure to grab a bite!

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CHASING THE COCOA BEAN

Hypoglycemia and chocolate are not friends. There is no specific warning on the packaging, no alarm bells activated with a mouthful, nor radioactive encounter after consumption. They do not meet in a happy place for an ever after, or friendly happy hour. An encounter causes metabolic havoc; an over production of insulin, a sometimes surreptitious or otherwise sudden 1-2-3-combo of shakiness, sleepiness and sweating. Hypoglycemia sufferers know better to stay away from the sirens of sweetness, and lure of the luscious.

Rummaging through the pantry on a cocoa bean, butter or cocoa mass reconnaissance mission is a categorical harbinger of havoc. As the sensor light in the pantry extinguishes, it’s a sign my search time is up. A desperate grab at low grade, sugar filled choc chips exposes my bubbling anxiety and moment of surrender to the greater forces of stress, fatigue, conflict, expectations or change. Packet instructions run through a slow-release cookie calamity or a ‘lose it fast’ ganache.

I opt for the gusto-guaranteed ganache. A highly unstable form of meltdown. Rich, colourful, full volume, Kleenex consuming and generally short lived. It takes no prisoners and generally leaves an aftertaste of shame, remorse or total relief in my direct surrounds and blood sugar. By comparison, the slow-release cookie meltdown requires ingredients of gradual unease, restlessness, distraction, increasingly frequent leaky eyes accompanied by nether lip biting. It’s a tug of war between the rejection of, and capitulation to, mental constructs and authentic emotions genuinely mixed into the misery of meltdown.

Sitting in a cocoa induced coma comes highly recommended – if only temporarily. Providing health benefits such as lower blood pressure, mood improvement and energy. A justification to move out of this coma is complicated. Masticating Mars Bars and chomping down on chocolate squares, allows for gentle reconsideration of the treachery triggers. However, a lofty Lindt monolith clearly indicates the stretched-out sook must cease. Reflection turned rumination rarely provides a platform for post meltdown prizewinning performance.

There are no hard and fast rules for the cocoa climb out. Rich chocolate antioxidants, belly breathing and visualisation of a positive, post meltdown tomorrow, offer solid scaffolding for the arduous ascent. Apologies for meltdown emotions aren’t necessary. Speedy penance for transgressions advisable. Whilst forgiveness for transgressors most successfully transpires intentionally. Subjective, spectator scorecards belong buried or strewn undeserved of scrutiny, as a realignment of personal response, self -talk and stratagem is self – assuredly affirmed. Creativity, time out, friends, fitness, faith, and all importantly the fruit crisper, are signed up for success. The comeback countdown clock is set.  A Cadbury catastrophe need not automatically equate to eternal affliction and meltdown malaise. Embrace the cocoa bean, ride the sugar rush and play hard for the positive rebound.

BEYOND THE FENCE

“Just stop digging!” Curse this frenzied journey to the centre of the earth. What secret navigational coordinates indicate a prized cache buried here? Oh, to have discovery as a hardwired, quintessential mandate. A high energy, all encompassing, thoroughly convincing and self – confident mission to love blindly, serve unconditionally, dig vociferously and destroy innocently. Envy of such single minded determination. Loving the sock, the ripped serviette, the table leg and its seriously angry owner simultaneously seems effortless.

Mixed somewhere in the dried dog food, hides a secret ingredient for daily vigour and endless vitality. Half a cup three times a day until 6 months. How much for over 40? Fearlessness underpins ‘fetch’, all wrapped up in a yellow rubber ball, stick or half eaten plastic bottle. Hesitation abandoned, confidence abounding, adventure aspirational.

An audacious self-belief and worthiness oozes from every greeting, lick, tummy rub or request for treats. Vulnerability is erased with the stroke of a hand. Self-evaluation, wallowing or pity evident only after discipline for brazened defiance of rules, requests for peace and demands for returned wet washing. Life is a wholehearted “yes”, until a resolute baritone voice enforces a fleeting “no”. Love is communal and, with the exception of a bone protecting military offensive, generally unselfish. Confidence a constant companion attached to a lead with a road to anywhere, along which curiosity breeds courage, illusions of canine grandeur and magpie domination. Self – doubt lies unchartered, abandoned, and expired alongside the squeaker dismembered from it’s toy.

Fowl feathered friends present prospects for opportunity. Stern admonishment equating to exploits temporarily postponed. Discovery or defiance? The ever present yard fences shift paradigms, forming horizons for adventure, solid motivation and innovation for excavation and escape. An infectious enthusiasm mandates enquiry, exploration, and embrace of the new.

Trudging to the garden shed, I survey my options. What tools do I have for a scandalous approach to enquiry? For infectious enthusiasm? What will be useful for life’s tug of war or punctured tennis balls?  A saw will prove useful for a hole in the fence, or a ladder for a quick ascent. A chainsaw rapidly removes dead wood creating pathways – a permission slip for adventure. Fertilizer provides ingredients for new shoots of wholeheartedness and a shovel imperative for expedited uncovering of long buried self-belief. Loading the wheelbarrow my determination is reassured by the breeze of a wagging tail. A heartening encouragement that growth is directly connected to my willingness to cast aside doubt and scale the limitations of the fences in my mind. It only takes a sniff.

 

VIVE LA VIE

Vive la Vie –  ‘Life is wonderful’ is what it says on the card my friend has sent me. Is it a challenge? Perhaps an affirmation? In any case intentional and deliberate.  It’s a statement. No room for debate. Emphatic and unreserved. There are no grey undertones. An allusion and alluring to the richness of blessing, hope and colour.

Colour is “the property possessed by an object of producing different sensations on the eye as a result of the way it reflects or emits light”. Wonder and joy are the properties possessed by an individual producing different sensations on the heart and mind as a result of the way it reflects or embraces blessing. Thankfulness and gratitude are the hues, shades, tints and tones refracting from blessing. A rainbow of richness, hope and promise splashed boldly across the heavens broadcasting a witness to wonder undeniable.

Comparable to mixing colours, the nuances embedded in the pallet of gratitude and thankfulness range from strong, steady primary colours, endless combinations of bright secondary and tertiary colour blends, to pale and barely visible shades of monochrome actuality. Where blessing lies hidden, barely seen with it’s form and tones unrecognizable and foreign. A marginal alteration on base colour, a tweak to saturation, lifts faded shades and dark undertones, uncovering richness; reinvigorating shape and form. Hope illustrated.

In the alteration of the primary, we see the magnitude of application possibilities. The totality of blessing. The refraction of reality and opportunity. A canvas to celebrate all which is good. A covenant to mix boldly the colours that constitute wonder. An awakening to that unnoticed, unappreciated; that overlooked. Shades enhancing the form and texture of goodness, reinforcing blessing. A plethora of colour and faithfulness. A rainbow of grace.

“Red and yellow and pink and green
Purple and orange and blue
I can sing a rainbow
Sing a rainbow
Sing a rainbow too

Listen with your eyes
Listen with your ears
And sing everything you see
I can sing a rainbow
Sing a rainbow
Sing along with me

Red and yellow and pink and green
Purple and orange and blue
I can sing a rainbow
Sing a rainbow
Sing a rainbow too”  Sing a Rainbow.

For Grietje and Narelle

Are We There Yet?

The Enneagram personality type Seven is summarized as ‘The Enthusiast’. Attributing characteristics such as busy, fun-loving, curious, optimistic, and adventurous to the individual. ‘Sevens’ are excited by the rush of ideas; generally quick responders with agile minds and often able to see the big picture. There is an underpinning abundant vitality and desire to fully participate in life each day. Or, for a more creative explanation:
‘An ant carrying a larger than life bread crumb; scrambling, overcoming obstacles, challenging reality and LOVING IT, looking for still more’.

Forced commitment to the long windy road for a Seven therefore regularly brings up the restless question “Are we there yet”? Unfortunately, unlike the response given to children on long road trips, the answer is more complicated. In short – ‘No’.

The envious quality of patience, described as “The capacity to accept or tolerate delay, problems, or suffering without becoming annoyed or anxious”, is a distant, rarely required or embraced trait for a Seven; where life is an autobahn of dynamic choices and opportunities.

When the green light of activity turns red to an unquestionable stop, the transition to orange and back to green is fraught with detours and road works. This slow jam demands unconditional acceptance of delay, the re-routing of the roadmap and an adjusted destination timeframe. Trip meter set to zero. A forced submission to patience dictates a new strategy.

“This hill, though high, I covet to ascend;
The difficulty will not me offend.
For I perceive the way to life lies here.
Come, pluck up, heart; let’s neither faint nor fear.
Better, though difficult, the right way to go,
Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe.”
John Bunyan, The Pilgrim’s Progress

“The way of life lies here”. ”Come, pluck up, heart”. A hint of joy? That sounds like a Seven. Courage in the now. Determination in the present. Perseverance in the today. “Let’s neither faint nor fear”. A choice required, with positive options accepted. Refocus, recommit, align expectations. Discover the divine in the ordinary. Uncover the unexpected joys of the detour, peace transforming pain, healing consuming injury, through the plotting of a slow, deliberate, determined trajectory towards the green light, whilst patiently learning to enjoy the view from the jam.

“Are we here yet?” Yes. In the now we are here. In the perseverance, we are here. In the patience, we are here. In the discovery of the ordinary, we are here.

 

Dem Bones, Dat Brain

 

Positive energy is infectious. My Physiotherapist is an expert in this area. I find myself increasingly interested in all manner of anatomical and musculoskeletal theories, practices and developments due to his effervescent imparting of knowledge on what goes far beyond just the general treatment of my uncooperative body. The ‘structural’ secret to my recovery lies within a muscular web which both pains me and sustains me. It’s my adductor longis which doesn’t want to yield. The gracilis and pectinius are all “on guard” after the damage to my right anterior acetabulum and sacral ala. The tensor fasciae latae sounds more like a hipster coffee to me than a muscle responsible for protecting my hip and groin from receiving more damage.

The skeleton, muscles, cartilage, tendons, ligaments, joints, and other connective tissues, all part of the musculoskeletal system, working together to provide my body with support, protection, and movement. The human musculoskeletal system, otherwise known as the locomotor system, (ironically amusing for the ‘movement impaired’), gives humans the ability, to move using their muscular and skeletal systems. Bones are connected to other bones and muscle fibers via connective tissue such as tendons and ligaments. Muscles keep bones in place and play a role in the movement of bones. Ultimately the body’s functionality is dependent on a healthy skeletal system. It being the internal framework of the body. The form that sets the stage for function. The core which supports, stores, moves, regulates, and protects.

Further to the ‘structural recovery’ wrapped in the inner workings of the musculoskeletal system; the neurochemicals of happiness; endorphins, dopamine and serotonin are busy creating a desirable brain state. Honing in on positive outcomes and determining the psychological responses to the daily challenges of injury and rehabilitation. The ‘connecting tissue’ of a mind deeply rooted in a solid sense that hope is greater than what I alone can muster daily; drives a psychological locomotion, a dispositional optimism. Hope and faith that I will never be ‘tempted more than I can bear’. That “Faith is trusting in advance what only makes sense in reverse” (Phillip Yancey). A security and stability that is wired into my DNA, based on a crown that was paid for long ago that I am blessed to wear. “She is clothed with strength and dignity and laughs without fear of the future”. (Proverbs 31:25) A true, real sense that it is indeed “In Him I Live and Move and Have My Being”: Acts 17.28

The knitting together and alignment of the skeletal, neurological and spiritual; frames a future of certainty, stability and hope. The creation of fluid locomotion. When we pair a positive, solidly grounded outlook with a commitment to embrace reality, amazing things can happen.

“Toe bone connected to the foot bone
Foot bone connected to the heel bone
Heel bone connected to the ankle bone
Ankle bone connected to the shin bone

Dem bones, dem bones gonna walk around.
Dem bones, dem bones gonna walk around.
Dem bones, dem bones gonna walk around.
Now hear the word of the Lord.”

Whistle While You Work

I’ve taken to whistling.

“Just whistle while you work
And cheerfully together we can tidy up the place
So hum a merry tune
It won’t take long when there’s a song to help you set the pace

And as you sweep the room
Imagine that the broom is someone that you love
And soon you’ll find you’re dancing to the tune
When hearts are high the time will fly
So whistle while you work.”  (Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs)

“Cheerfully tidying up the place”, “Hum a merry tune”, “Hearts are high”. Mock and jest if you wish, but I’m singing and I’m whistling. I’m loving the broom, the washing machine, the clothes line, the dishes; time is flying and my heart is high. Liberation through domestication. Domestic bliss! Who, ever would have thought? The mundane transformed to victory, to progress, to satisfaction! Pass me some stain remover!

It is indeed true that absence makes the heart grow fonder. A phrase I never would have formally attributed to domestic chores. For three and a half months I have watched my family complete the household tasks with “domestic envy”. (Well if I’m honest I may only have become envious after one month of not being able to do them!) Yet in the winning back of mobility, I embrace the victory of the mundane. Thankfulness builds in the sock basket, the dishwasher, the washing machine. It builds in correlation with movement and flexibility. Energy directs to outcomes and productivity once more. Steps are taken. Steps earned with pain. Steps solidified with tears. Steps with a story. Steps embodying achievement. Past steps shaping the new destination. One foot and then the other. Slowly, safely, excitedly. Overwhelming satisfaction.

Visualise: an out of control laundry, a messy kitchen, a child’s bedroom upturned. Reframe to: Opportunity for victory, joy in the mundane, satisfaction in the obscure.

Love your broom, your clothesline, your dish mop. Embrace your “inner house-keeper”. Thank you Snow White. “When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive – to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love”.  Marcus Aurelius  (Thanks Olwen!) 

Sweet Oblivious Antidote

Macbeth: How does your patient, doctor?
Doctor: Not so sick, my lord, as she is troubled with thick-coming fancies that keep her from rest.
Macbeth: Cure her of that! Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the written troubles of the brain, and with some sweet oblivious antidote cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff which weighs upon her heart.
Doctor: Therein the patient must minister to himself.
                                                                                       William Shakespeare

It would be unrealistic not to acknowledge that amongst all the gratitude, the reality of brokenness and struggle are underpinning themes of injury recovery. Healing of fractures is about as speedy as a 16^th Century pavan.

Bystander:“How does your patient, doctor?”
Doctor: ”Not so sick as she is troubled with the magnanimity of the task of recovery. Not so sick as she is troubled with the disappointment of unrealized current and future opportunities. Not so sick as she is troubled with frustration bourne out of dependence on others. Not so sick as she is ……”
Bystander: Cure her of that! Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the written troubles of the brain, and with some sweet oblivious antidote cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff which weighs upon her heart.
Doctor: Therein the patient must minister to herself.

In this physical malaise of loss and renewal, “the natural mystery of transformation” (Richard Rohr), occurs. If brokenness is indeed both loss and renewal, if “success and failure are truly the same side of the coin” (Rohr), this patient must certainly minister to herself.

Nature itself is a preacher presenting divine wisdom from the pulpit, or the doctor writing a prescription for “healing”. Firmly fixed to a stable core and fertile ground, the sunflower ministers to all who behold her. She turns with the sun, seeking energy, increasing her capacity for photosynthesis, growth and renewal. Her face is turned towards the sun. Following it, as the elixir for stability and sustainability. With each turn Apollo bathes her in sunlight, growing her, healing her; the shadows fall behind her.

There is no “sweet oblivious antidote” to “cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff which weighs upon MY heart”. Time, determination, attitude and patience are alone the antidote.

Not unlike the slow-growing of the sunflower, each turn of her head is akin to the achievement of a milestone in recovery; providing energy and growth for the next. So, the process of healing, one milestone after the other. Starting small; getting into bed without assistance, showering independently, moving up and down steps, carrying a cereal bowl or cup of coffee. Accumulating milestones, building strength, gaining momentum, focusing on the end goal. Transforming loss into renewal; ministering to oneself.

The sun does not shine every day. Some days it rains. Some days it’s stormy. Some days the fog hangs deeply and visibility is impaired. The sunflower stands firmly in the field, buffeted by the weather, nourished by the rain waiting for the sun to return. It always does. She turns her head, the shadows fall behind her and renewal continues.

New Glasses Required

Beyond the reflection of gratitude, the demand for a response to one’s trials invariably rears its head. “How do you do it”? “As an active person, this must be so hard for you”. “You must be so frustrated”. “This will be driving you crazy”. “You’re going to need drugs to get you through this!”. “A fractured pelvis & hip, that’s nothing to be smiling about”. An ongoing string of well-meaning, sympathy bearing comments from people expressing support.

Despite these considerations a quiet and constant melody, frequently pushes its way through the turmoil of my spirit, reminding me of its laser focus on my current situation. The old steadfast hymn “It is Well With My Soul”. Totally applicable. It IS well with my soul, (just not some of my bones). The irony of the presence of this specific song in my mind is not lost on me. Aptly referencing the conditions in which my injuries were sustained, “When sorrows like sea billows roll”! This definitely sounds like the 20+ knot Fremantle Doctor and 2.5+meter waves off Fremantle Sailing Club on the day. Nonetheless, “Whatever my lot thou hast taught me to say it is well, it is well, with my soul”.

Three blogs later, I finally see an opportunity to quote one of my most favourite entrepreneurial leaders and educators, Stephen Covey. “Between stimulus and response, there is a space where we choose our response”. “Happiness like unhappiness, is a proactive choice”. Similar psychology to Horatio Spafford’s, ‘It Is Well’ in 1873. Proactive resistance or proactive acceptance. The choice is totally mine.

Lewis Carol’s interpretation on these deep psychological questions is creative and refreshing.
“What matters is how far we go? His scaly friend replied.
There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The further off from England, the nearer is to France-
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
Will you, wont you,will you, wont you, will you join the dance?
Will you, wont you, will you, wont you, wont you join the dance?” Alice’s Adventure Wonderland.

Through Caroll’s eyes, choice is an invitation. What is this invitation? What is this dance? What’s on the other shore? I don’t have the answers, but I certainly have the choice. Accept the invitation, reframe the experience. Turn up the tunes. Bring out the subwoofer. “It is Well”.