Define my bliss. Hm. The Good Buddhist Answer would be that my bliss is wherever I find myself, that no one moment is better than any other moment, that all moments are contained in this singular eternity, this breath, this heartbeat.
But of course, bliss is easier come by in some places than others. For me, very often those moments of pure peace, contentment, and … yes, bliss are found outside – sailing, hiking, climbing, riding my horse, digging in the garden, paddling a kayak, surfing, snorkeling. Or, standing still at the edge of the ocean just as the rain begins to fall, or at the top of Lone Tree Hill, my jacket unzipped, the wind blowing through me, or beneath the crashing weight of a waterfall pouring off a cliff far above. Those are the moments when my molecular structure shifts a little, becomes less tied to the mundane (do I need to pick up a bottle of milk on the way home?) and more open to/intrinsically intertwined with/influenced by some fundamental organizing principle underlying all things in the universe.
I have heard it said that to find clues about where to find your current bliss you might want to return to those things that made you happy when you were a child. There I am in the mountains with my jacket unzipped, waiting for the wind to blow through me. I’m also with my brother, and I have certainly learned that there are few things more important for the attainment of deep contentment than time spent with those you love most.
That said, sometimes the most profound moments of peace are found in solitude, when there is nobody else to hear my breathing. Which, in a pleasing circular sort of way, brings me back to where I began this post – bliss as breath and breath as universe.
Wow. I should refrain from writing posts late at night! Fact is I am too tired after having had a wonderful afternoon sailing followed by dinner and a movie with my dear father to even attempt to sensibly reflect on the idea that ‘all moments are contained in this singular eternity…’ What the heck did I mean by that anyway?
That 1970 photo – there is just something about it I can’t put my finger on that I just really love. Maybe it is the complete innocence or the untouched nature – I don’t know but I really like it.
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It’s no wonder that looking through old family photos evokes such a strong sense of nostalgia. That moment, captured… I love looking at some of the old pictures. My mom had a wonderful eye and there are some real gems in our photo boxes! Thanks for visiting…
“What the heck did I mean by that anyway?” Whatever it was, I think I know what you meant.