Soft, Gentle Joy

I’ve been accused at times for being a little intense.

Many of my closest friends are Type-A kind of people. Maybe more than that. I tend to gravitate toward people that want to suck the life out of every minute. Often to a fault. That anxiety that hums behind the scenes that says life is short and we should be making the most of every fragile, fleeting second – I resonate with that.

And I find myself admiring people that just “take it easy” – that just seem to take things as they come and don’t overthink every single step.

However, there are advantages to being “passionate”. For one, you pay attention. You notice the little things, and can take a whole lot of “meat” out of moments in time.

For another, you get to really feel things. That means the good stuff and the uncomfortable come to you in excesses. But when it’s good, man it’s worth savouring.

This morning I dropped off Lucy at school. A regular Monday. Parents coming and going. Traffic swelling with morning commuters. The Peachland regulars out walking their dogs, riding their bikes, kayaking on the lake. Even the guy that sits in a lawn chair in front of his old Winnebago at the edge of the parking lot was there waving to the world with his cup of coffee. The little details of this life I’ve come to expect were all there, doing their thing. Nothing out of place.

Except that I was different this morning. Yesterday was Lucy’s 6th birthday party. Maybe this time last year it wouldn’t have been as big of a deal. We were planning for a Ghostbusters themed thing at the house – another “at home” birthday extravaganza I promised myself I’d never do again. But it’s Lucy’s turn now, and the second sibling shouldn’t get the shaft just because I’ve already learned the hard way that home parties are an insane amount of work. But she didn’t get that party. Instead she got a beautiful celebration at Ronald McDonald House with her Auntie and Uncle. It was amazing, but it was without her peers. It was…different.

But this year I wanted her to feel special. SO special. Because it can’t be easy to watch from the wings as your sister goes through cancer treatment. For a million, zillion reasons, it has to have been hard. And she’s been spoiled, without question. But this birthday needed to be about her. Just her, without “special circumstances” to consider.

And let me tell you, she felt special. Our incredible community of supporters made sure of it. She got a bouncy castle, and buckets of candy, and was surrounded by classmates and friends that celebrated her without sympathy or pity or any of the energy that has been mixed into life as of late. Just joy. And love.

I drove up the hill on the way back from the school as Bob Sinclair’s “Love Generation” came on Spotify.

Why must the children play in the streets
Broken hearts and faded dreams
Peace on earth to everyone that you meet
Don't you worry, it could be so sweet
Just look to the rainbow, you will see
The sun will shine 'til eternity
I've got so much love in my heart
No one can tear it apart, yeah

Be the love generation

Over a decade ago, that song was the soundtrack of my life. My husband would roll his eyes – he’s not into mainstream music, and it’s a little too on the nose for him. The lyrics are syrupy and thick with sentimentality. But that’s kind of me in song form. Obnoxiously idealistic.

Thirteen years ago I was on the “full moon beach” on Koh Phagnan in Thailand, dancing barefoot in the sand to this song. I had tossed my little woven purse aside that had my passport and anything of value that I owned, trusting the universe that it would be safe among the thousands of travellers that were partying by my side while I lost myself in the moment.  Eventually one of those strangers brought it back to me, telling me to keep a better watch on my belongings. My thought was, “thank you new friend – it’s nice to know that I don’t have to worry when I have people like you watching out for me.”

Irresponsible, I know. My husband reminds me all the time that I can’t be so careless – that we have to teach our kids to be more vigilant and self-protective. And he’s right. But my whole life that’s been the way it’s been for me. “Angels” coming out of the woodwork to take care of me. Protect me. Give me evidence that the world is a kind and caring place.

And yesterday was just another example of that.

I still have friends from back in the day – fellow teachers and travellers and people that have known me from the various places I’ve lived – that think of me when they hear that song. It was “my song”, because when I heard it, I came alive. There’s just something about that sappy song that gets me in the gut. It’s an ideal that I long for so deeply, and want so much for my kids. It is about a world full of love and hope and togetherness and joy. And as over the top as it is, it feels like a good goal to aim for and expect.

The sun broke out as I drove up that hill after a day of rain, and the leaves all sparkled green like they were just kissed with some magical hand from above. Barf – I get it. I know. But then again, how many people missed it that drove up that same hill? How many people weren’t paying attention and didn’t get that joy-filled moment that was deep set in the bones?

I didn’t take it for granted. I don’t take much for granted, these days. But I know it’s a bit much. I know there is value in just driving up a hill and not feeling like your heart is going to explode. I know that’s part of the reason I married the man I did – because he appreciates these things, but can still roll his eyes at me (with endearment, of course) and bring me back down to planet earth.

But sometimes I just don’t want my feet on the ground. It feels good to fly. Even Violet has been in the clouds lately, happier than I’ve seen her, not just in the past year, but in her lifetime. Just joyful, without conditions. Just grateful, without guilt.

I pulled into the driveway and met my husband in the yard where he was busy rebuilding our deck. I kissed him on the cheek and said, “we have a nice little life.” And those mellow words relaxed me into thankfulness without the strain on my heart. Just nice, easy appreciation. The sweet spot we all aim for. Soft, gentle joy.