On Love and Bliss

This post is primarily about love, in some of its myriad forms.

Earlier this week, I had a relatively rare moment of bliss. It was fleeting, it was unexpected, but it was very real.

I was driving to my new job (yay!) which shows all the signs of being truly meaningful, fun, and playing to many of my strengths. I was also thinking about my kids... about my son who is off to a good start in junior high; about my daughter who is also doing well beginning 4th grade. And about how amazing they both are in their own ways. And how lucky I am to have them, and have the ability to be present for them in the ways they deserve.

And I thought about my husband, who has taken the brunt of financial responsibility for all of us. And about how he has grown in the 20 years I've known him. And about how he has gracefully put up with my multitude of flaws during those same years.

And then I really thought about how loved I am... and how lucky I am.

And I thought about how self-love--being honest with yourself and striving to do what honors you-- is a component of being truly healthy and happy.

And I experienced a moment of immense joy--right in the center of my chest. In my heart chakra. And the beauty of it almost took my breath away.

I will carry the memory of it, because life does not often afford these moments. (At least, not to me!)

Wishing all of you those snippets of bliss, also!

Russian Dolls

I cannot get the image of Russian dolls out of my head. I'm sure you've at least seen a picture of them--A painted "doll" on a vaguely human-shaped box. You open it up, and inside is nested another doll. You open that one--guess what another doll! And so on...

Do we come into our lives as Russian dolls? If so, is life about exposing each new layer at random or pre-determined times, so that at the end we get to the "core" of who we are?

Maybe, the metaphor works in reverse--we come into life small and unformed, and as we progress through space and time we acquire new layers of who we are. Does that mean that at the end of our lives we have become removed from the essence of what we once were? Does it mean we spend our lives "becoming?"

If I am to play with this metaphor, I think I most often feel like I have built up layers around myself. But that is not to say that the layers are not useful; they have added a complexity and a sharpness that was not formerly present.

But sometimes it hurts to feel the burden of the layers--the weight of them pressing upon me. One layer is "society." It it made up of expectations and roles and all the ways in which others judge who or how I should be. It is made up of the ways in which I have learned to navigate my way through, the ways in which I have altered or changed the way I would otherwise be. There is a layer "family. A layer "job." A layer dedicated to all the joy I have ever experienced--and another that shades that joy like a dark woolen cloak--made up of the pain and disappointment life has thrown my way.

What does it mean, then, to love? To be truly intimate with another person? Does it mean you can cast off your layers and show that person your inner doll?

I'm going to ponder all this some more. I welcome your thoughts.