Comfort and Joy

When summer emerges in all its verdant glory, my kitchen windowsill sports three glasses:

  • one green
  • one golden
  • one lavender

Each is a vessel for something from my piece of Mother Earth – a sprig of rosemary, a handful of basil, a trailing thyme. As the morning sun graces this seasonal vignette, the light shines through the etched glass, stopping me in my well-worn, everyday tracks, scooping out the coffee or washing the blueberries, or wondering if I have what I need for tonight’s dinner. I pause to savor the moment, grateful for its gentle prompt to stop, to see, to take in the beauty at every turn.

I don’t recall where those light-filled lovelies found me, but I knew I had to bring them into my world. I imagined there was a fourth glass at some point, maybe pink? Maybe blue?  Perhaps they were passed over by another would-be buyer as their practical mind rhetorically asked, “Who wants three glasses, after all?” No matter because they were of course too delicate and impractical for the everyday, and it wasn’t my head that told me to buy them, it was my heart.

The longer I occupy the earth plane, the more deeply I “know in my knowing” that the heart expresses a wisdom that the head will never understand. Take love or faith, ever inexplicable and personal. And yet, where would we be without them?  For me, joy, or, more specifically that which brings me joy, comes from that same mysterious place.

As I travel those well-worn, everyday tracks, I am everywhere reminded of how I have filled my home with joyful, joy-filled “things,” like those glasses. And I understand why. It’s the same reason that, back in my hither and yon road warrior days, I would buy that over-priced eucalyptus mint hand cream, or that amber vanilla travel candle from a cute airport shop – to spark some comfort and joy in the turnkey hotel room that would serve as my transient home.  I’d lay down my hard-earned cash to remind myself that

Everywhere – in the midst of the mundane, the necessary, the difficult, the ugly – there is food for the soul and inspiration for the spirit.

It’s the same reason that I balance the constant onslaught of world-weary news with poetry,  literature, and glossy shelter magazines.

The same reason I walk backwards to take in the glory of a bursting, early morning sunrise.

The same reason I organize my towels by color and size. Can such a utilitarian thing be beautiful? Can it spark a sense of comfort? Maybe even joy?  Oh, yes!

Not everyone understands, and they don’t need to.  Moved and humbled, I will continue to stop, to see, to take in the beauty around me.  And at night, when the lights are out and I seek rest, these are the last words that will leave my lips: “I am grateful for this bed that comforts me.” Then I will close my eyes, trusting that whatever the next day brings, it will contain its own inexplicable share of comfort and joy.


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