the radiance in what is
This year, I am finally starting to feel like the pleasure of this moment is outweighing the pain from it being too damn cold outside.
Even when I forget to wear a scarf and my nose freezes on the walk to school, the here and now of sunlight and wind patterns gets me through that numb pain.
(And my warm, well-insulated, boiler heated house warms me up fairly quickly.)
And so I soak in the radiance of the world, as it is.
It helps tremendously, I suppose, that the here and now of right now will soon turn to another here and now. The speeding up of time as I age is beneficial, in that I don't have an endless winter to hurt me. It will be spring before long.
(It feels like it was just spring, already.)
Even looking forward to two trips, in close succession, I know that just as quickly as they come, they will go. And I'm ok with that truth.
I'll take plenty of photos and make plenty of memories and enjoy each moment as best I can, as I can. I'm sure I'll get sleep-deprived, a little. There will be difficult moments, as always. The overall love that surrounds me is bigger than those hassles. That's been true of traveling since I can remember. The benefit outweighs the negatives. I like to go places. That's just part of who I am.
That's really what this pleasure is, a steeping in the experience of being, a rooting of my self, as myself. (In this moment, in this Oneness, in this everything that is, right now.)
And so I am enjoying autumn. Enjoying this damn "polar vortex," which here feels like just a regular cold snap.
Enjoying the wind through the falling leaves.
Enjoying the cozy purple blanket on my couch.
Enjoying the hygge of my cozy house, my forest-walk spray (it really does help, I'm on my third or fourth batch since I made the first one last November), my swants.
And knowing that this moment is good. Maybe "too cold" but good.
Yes, this was a lesson worth learning.
(It took a lot of pain to learn. And probably will take more, since I'm sure I'll recant before the end of winter. Pleasure at the start is one thing. Can I remember this in March, when the snow keeps coming and coming? We'll see.)