I’m currently traveling and never have I identified more with the Charles Dickens line, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” The lows are low (no clean clothes for 48 hours! Diverted plane! An unexpected six-hour bus ride!) but the highs are also high. I’m meeting my friends’ children for the first time. I’m reuniting with people I haven’t seen in two years, 10 years. And I’m trying to do as Joseph Campbell advises when he says, “We cannot cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live in joy.”
I know there are terrible things happening. I know the world can be so horrible it will break your heart over and over again. I know people are struggling (myself included) but I am choosing to live in joy. And more than that, I’m choosing to relish the little joys when they arrive. Here’s a little story about that.
In early July, I was at a yoga and meditation retreat in upstate New York. It was so sweet to see my spiritual family and connect with people I hadn’t seen in ages. But it was also hard physically – no air-conditioning in the dorms, people walking on creaky wooden floors at all hours of the day and night, and just generally sleeping poorly in a new place. My body was wrecked.
After the retreat, I met my fourth cousin for the first time, who graciously let me stay in his two-bedroom, two-bath apartment near Times Square. Air-conditioning! A comfy bed! No creaky floors! A pool! It was exactly what I needed. The joy of temperature control after sweating all night cannot be overstated. But even still, I was tired, cranky, and feeling off because for the first time in a week, I was completely alone. As I brushed my teeth in my cousin’s bathroom, I looked down and saw a rainbow stripe in the sink.
The rainbow in question. And yes, that’s my reflection in the sink.
Many people know that I have a thing about hearts and the word “love.” I see either or both every single day. I share many of those images on Instagram. What’s less known is I also have a thing about rainbows. Whenever I see a rainbow, I will squeal in delight or, at the very least, smile. Rainbows bring me joy in a way that hearts do not because they’re unexpected and rare. It’s easy to spot a heart every day if you look for one because people wear heart necklaces. They carve them into cement. They decorate their homes with love paraphernalia. Hearts are everywhere. Rainbows are not.
When I see a rainbow, it’s like the universe is saying to me, “Hey! Remember the good stuff, kiddo! Relish the joy and remember it can come out of the blue!” When so much of the world feels like a dumpster fire, it feels important to remember that. It relates to a concept my spiritual teacher touts, which is, “Here in the universe, nothing is stationary, nothing is fixed. Everything moves; that’s why this universe is called jagat. Movement is its dharma; movement is its innate characteristic.”
Movement is the innate characteristic of the universe. Nothing is stagnant or static or stale. The world will always be full of sorrows but it will also be full of joys. Am I relishing them when they come? It’s definitely a practice but I’m doing my best because joy is a lot more, well, enjoyable.
I dream of a world where we understand there are always bad things happening but there are also always good things happening. A world where we understand joy is often about the little things – air-conditioning on a hot summer’s day, going to the pool with friends, seeing a rainbow in an unexpected place. A world where we do our best to relish those little joys because we know they aren’t so little after all.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I can’t speak for everywhere, but life in the Bay Area is pretty apocalyptic right now. On top of the pandemic, we also have a heatwave, rolling power outages, and 367 wildfires. Things are pretty bleak. However, instead of feeling constantly scared and depressed, I notice my mood vacillates. On Saturday, air quality improved to moderate as opposed to unhealthy. I opened my windows for the first time in days and let a cool breeze circulate inside my apartment. The inside temperature dropped from 86 degrees to a more manageable 78.
One of the things that prompted the most anxiety is wondering what I would do in the event of an evacuation. I don’t have a car. Would I have to hitch a ride with one of my neighbors? And where would I go? If I have to evacuate, all my local friends will likely have to evacuate as well. In that case, where would I stay? I mentioned all this to a friend of mine and he promised if we have to evacuate, he will drive over and pick me up. Hearing that, I felt better.
What does this picture have to do with anything? Nothing. It’s pretty. Photo by daniel plan on Unsplash
I mention all this because seeing my mood oscillate reminds me not only are emotions like that, but also life in general. Change can happen rapidly. A day can make a huge difference. Even in regards to these wildfires, a storm is headed our way, and if it’s a wet one instead of a dry one, the fires will diminish. I’ve been singing a rain song my spiritual teacher provided multiple times a day to encourage rain, but only time will tell if it helped.
However, even if it doesn’t rain soon, it will rain eventually. And the firefighters will eventually extinguish the blazes. My hope of course is sooner rather than later but regardless, a lot can happen in a day, in an hour, in an instant. Nothing remains static.
According to my spiritual philosophy, the Sanskrit word for the universe is jagat, and jagat comes from the root verb meaning “to move.” My spiritual teacher says, “Here in the universe, nothing is stationary, nothing is fixed. Everything moves; that’s why this universe is called jagat. Movement is its dharma; movement is its innate characteristic.”
Nothing is permanent. Nothing lasts forever. And between one day and the next, a lot can happen for better or for worse. When I’m having a down day, when I smell smoke drifting in from outside, when I wipe a layer of ash off my mailbox, I have to remind myself not only that this, too, shall pass, but also that life can improve at any moment. Sometimes hope is the only thing that can keep us going. It’s my wish that we all find some hope to hold onto while we traverse the catastrophes we’re enduring.
I dream of a world where we realize a lot can happen in an instant, an hour, a day. A world where we remember the universe is always moving and nothing lasts forever. A world where we hold on to hope for a better future because we remember what a difference a day can make.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.