Hints of Gladness May 9, 2022

When I am among the trees,

especially the willows and the honey locust,

equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,

they give off such hints of gladness.

I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

~ Mary Oliver ~

For 30 days (or more) I’m going to post and talk about the things that give me joy. I'm going to do my best to record hints of gladness especially when I go for my daily walks.

To sustain this, and what will hopefully become a habit, I have to keep it as simple as possible, so I’m not going to write or do anything too elaborate other than to briefly comment on what's making me glad and have a picture or two to go along with it.

Take good care,

~ Rod

P.S. If you'd like to join me, let me know. I would love to have some fellow travellers who are taking note of their hints of gladness. Email rod@hintsofgladness.com

May 9, 2022

As I walk in the rain today I am reminded that life is not all shits and giggles. Life is full of light AND darkness. Some of our most profound growth comes when we go through difficult circumstances or are willing to admit and face our shadow. As the saying goes it's good to die before you die. We do experience hints of gladness along the way, but don't cling to them. Neither do we cling to darkness. The point is to simply be open and to be with whatever surfaces. Essentially to be with what is. What is, what is, what is.

Mid-century mystics (and Buddhism) remind us that life is temporal. So are hints of gladness. Notice them and move on.

Of course the flipside of the coin is that we are whole. We have everything we need to be live according to our best self. I firmly believe that our best self is always just a choice away and that the reason we don’t make that choice is that we believe that soothing and medicating ourselves is a shortcut to safety and happiness.  The problem is it’s not long lasting and creates a diminishing cycle of return.

_ _ _ _ _

A hint of fresh cool air hits my nose as I stand under my umbrella looking out at the inlet in the rain. There it is again, and again, and again.

_ _ _ _ _

I’ve been away for a week and now I’m standing in my familiar spot and I’m a little bit afraid of being dulled by my routine. I am encouraged by the hope that it’s always a little bit fresh and exciting in someway. A heron flies by as I am dictating this. Pigeons drop to the ground below and then fly back up into the trees right beside me. Seagulls battle each other in the air. Crows come and go. Birdsong can be heard behind me. Mist clings to the hills in front of me. I feel the call to silence.