Joy

Acquaintances are low-fat yoghurt

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… well, not literally – more figuratively … stay with me – I’ll explain …

So last year, I moved – house, neighbourhood and state, job and sector … no point in doing things by eighths, quarters or halves …

It has involved lots of ‘new’, and lots of ‘change’. While I crave change … need it … the thought of it makes me uncomfortable in precisely equal measure.

Which means that when I do plunge, it is belly-flop sized as opposed to pin drop … and the scope is partly in retaliation for too long a period without change.

So – 2017 : new people, new places, new headspace, new ‘normal’ …

And – 2018 : a clear understanding that, my world with just me is functional; my world with people with whom I can be myself is atom-level satisfying.

And that’s the clear takeaway from the weekend past. At the moment, I have

YoplaitStrawberry

acquaintances in Melbourne. Acquaintances are like low-fat yoghurt – technically they sustain but sometimes they serve to highlight that which is missing.

Because friends ask those questions that they already know the part-answer to. They prod and poke and scratch the surface …

And I know that all friendship takes time and I know that my friendships are ones that are few but lasting … but after having a weekend of friends, I am concluding that :

> friends that ask ‘how are you’ and wait for the response that they’ve already half-discerned = farm-fresh yoghurt with live cultures.

 

So – happiness will be partially dependent on friends.

So – I need to make friends ….

How does one go about making friends at the age of 39???

 

The “Sad Days – Emergency Kit”

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I want richness – juiciness – yumminess; a squelchy, gooey, textured life.

That resonates for 2018 – I want texture and richness and friendship and love.

My 2017 … it was change. Breaking old patterns – trying to break old patterns.

It was the year of a bag. The “Sad Days – Emergency Kit” filled by my sister. For days that felt heavier than I wanted them to. For days when I felt alone. For days when I felt unloved. For days when my eyes saw my body as something to be hated. For days when I questioned what my purpose in life actually was … is.

Parcels, individually wrapped. The first one a Haighs-soft teddy-bear that has stayed with me over a move, new job and fragmentation of life. The second, a French film-filled USB, with a small card “Random act of kindness TIME” … still owed.

Today – another USB, unknown content. Another “Random act of kindness TIME” – donate clothes to those who need them more than me … to do this week.

I don’t like the term ‘suffering’ from depression. I know that, technically, it’s the correct verb … but … it is heavy with defeat.

I have a relationship with depression. At times, the relationship takes my breath away, floors me, knocks me sideways.

At times, mutual suspicion means a healthy distance.

Today is not one of those days. Today, I broke open the third parcel.

But I want more joy in my life. I need it. I want to work through the heaviness that I currently feel. I want juiciness.

Three weeks ago, I bought a book entitled “Can You Be Happy for 100 Days in a Row?“. I needed a regime, something easy to follow even when my Nietzsche-loving brain is telling me that everything is pointless … if I’m going to cede to something, it’s going to be something that offers potential.

 

The journey to ‘Here’ #2

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… and so I ended up in Ibiza …

Farmhouse

 

… leaving my door at a grizzly 8C;

lying flat on my back on an airport lounge shower floor in a desperate attempt to rid myself of, if not my head, at least its interior ache;

medicating myself with sleep-inducing, pain relieving concoctions;

being delayed by three hours that resulted in an additional wait of five and a new destination;

arriving at an airport without an address for a mountain-hidden Spanish farmhouse …

 

 

… after 41 hours, with a hug-welcome.

I had being saying for months that I needed hugs – more hugs, more often, stronger hugs, more touch … ironic that, when the wish is granted but the outcome is not one that looks like that expected … so …

I accepted the hug the way that I accept most hugs – with a veneer of my social self separating the other.

Ibiza – light-filled with a memory of the day’s warmth at 6pm.

 

And today I did something …

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Think of the foundations of yesterday – gym at 6am and then a day stretching in front of me, wide open with possibility …

And, instead of curling inwards – I curled outwards …

Walking up the street in early-summer sun to a furniture sale.

Walking down the street with a Danish side table in brushed metal.

Tram-hopping – decision-making – decision-changing – grass-lying – music listening – grocery-shopping – contract-drafting – yoga-going …

noun-verb

alchemy-sensing …

and pleasure-giving …