At the same time that I’m feeling cranky and impatient because the global pandemic’s end is in sight, but has not ended, a miraculous gift has been given to me. My husband and I are in the process of buying a property in Castle Valley, Utah. This has been a dream we have both held since we first knew each other, but for fifteen years has not seemed at all possible.
Last autumn, our hearts and minds had some openings and we were able to acknowledge the depth of our shared desire to have a place in this valley. Castle Valley is a place we have visited many times over the years, where we have friends, that has always felt like home. Together, we turned towards this shared deep desire and fully committed to doing all we could to make it happen. But, we knew our efforts alone were not enough. We invoked something Greater than ourselves. We committed to the purpose of this place being for gathering and for healing. We stepped fully in. And then we gave it all up to the gods. It will be what it will be. Not our will, by Thy will be done.
When we got the phone call a couple of weeks ago from the seller saying she had accepted our offer, we were both completely stunned. It didn’t seem possible, with nine parties interested. But it had happened immediately and easily. We danced in the living room together. Our joy was so great, it flooded our whole beings and the only possible response was to dance!
And yes, as we were applying for a loan before the miracle had come to be, I had serious and deadly attack thoughts in the middle of the night about money and how much of my savings I was putting down, and my ability to pay for this and that and ongoing house expenses. But — I saw the attack and I did not crumble in the face of the onslaught. I placed faith in the process and in my knowledge that things work out.
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At this moment, I am sitting in the kitchen of the Rock House at the family ranch, a house built by my grandfather in 1927. It is sunny and below freezing outside. I look out over the snowy fields to the lake, and across to the hills beyond to the west. This is a sight I’ve seen my entire life. The open space settles me and calms me. I have time today — no meetings or calls or tasks that must be done. So, upon suggestion from a friend, I am sitting here, drinking tea, allowing the full weight of joy to enter my being.
My friend and I spoke yesterday about how difficult it is to really let joy in. How we somehow are always expecting the other shoe to drop . . . so it’s much safer to keep joy at a respectful distance. If it breaks through occasionally, fine. But to choose to open to it? That feels very dangerous. Because it surely will be taken away.
I'm wondering if that’s actually not how it works. I’m wondering if joy and peace are my natural state of being — that joy and peace are the infinite blue sky that is always, always there, that cannot not be there. A sky that of course, I obscure by my own attack thoughts and judgments and fears and self-protective contraction.
My wise friend observed that in the center of the greatest joy is a point of grief. Our human lives are finite and we know it. And at the center of the greatest grief is a point of joy. We can only grieve what we dearly love. I saw that joy and grief are yin-yang mirrors of each other, connected inextricably in their difference, as one whole. To have the capacity to feel the full weight of joy, one must have the capacity to feel the full weight of grief.
Both my husband and I sense that this miracle is a turning point in our lives. It asks us to uplevel how we speak and listen to each other, and how we work together. It is the first big undertaking we will do together. We do it to give to others. And in the center of our joy is a point of grief, knowing that the years we have are limited, which makes it all the more sweet.
The COVID virus has had a hand in all this. It has stripped so much away, revealing what matters most.
I sit here, letting the joy in and feel gratitude for all the blessings in my life, including this year of psychological upending and radical change.
Today I commit to remembering who I truly am, as you are also, the wide open sky that can choose to let all of the joy in.