Lately I have been working on the topic of soul joy; to actively enable bliss moments in my life. This has been a lot of work, trying to find a way that bliss is in the moments of my daily life, rather than to have to deliberately embrace joy. What I have found is that any method that I have found, so far, is work, is deliberative, but it also is finding ways to pause in my daily life to dwell in a moment of bliss, to embrace soul joy.
What I have done is to refer to bliss items on my bliss list and to try to find ways to stop and notice and do those things.
My first effort with this has been the bliss list item flowers.
What I noticed when I decided to “notice” how I interacted with flowers when I came across them in my daily life was that I avoided flowers on purpose. That really made no sense to me, but I think that as I have continued to work on embracing soul joy I have constantly come up against the proof that I avoid soul joy.
I noticed that when I had the opportunity to look at flowers, I did not take it. I would be riding my bike or at the supermarket and see flowers and not stop. This is when I had nowhere important to go to, no time limit on my time.
I thought that stopping, focusing, looking might be a good initial way to try to put my soul joy into my life.
So I decided that I would stop when I saw flowers on the road, if I thought they were pretty. I would stop at the supermarket and look. I wish that I could say that those moments, those minutes were soul joy.
What I have discovered is that any kind of rules of personal conduct are very difficult for me to reconcile myself with, even if it is to embrace soul joy. I see this as a huge reaction to my mother, her abuses, and her all-encompassing rule over my moment by moment life, thoughts, conduct, beliefs.
I think this wall I am walking into repeatedly is similar to her telling me that I didn’t deserve the air I breathed, the food I ate, or the space I took up. I think she must have also told me that I didn’t deserve to have fun or to do things as well. I don’t remember, but I’m thinking that might be a huge part of this issue.
I do remember that she used to notice me when I looked happy, when I was doing something that I enjoyed to do. When I was at home, as a pre-schooler and she had the opportunity and saw me like that she would pick me up, take me in another room, and sexually abuse me. I still have trouble looking happy, even though she has been dead for more than ten years.
I do remember that I did still find moments of joy in my life when I was little: walking on the front lawn, staring at clouds, talking to my sweet brother, feeling love, petting a cat.
Instead of finding soul joy in this exercise I have found that imposing any kind of rule or limitation to my comings and goings is tedious and my time spent with the flowers are mostly tedium. I have stopped and watched the flowers. I love roses and that has been very lovely to see them all in all their colors. I found out that I particularly love orange flowers, medium pink roses, and nasturniums. I don’t like mixed flower bouquets. I love single kind and color of flower bouquets. I thought recently that I would love to have many different colored daisies, spaced around my living space.
I am not particularly fond of geraniums, but one thing that really impacted me recently was when I was sitting near some in a yard. I reached out to touch the little flowers, who are suprisingly and exquisitely soft and moved me tremendously.
I will continue with this as well as finding some more ways to look, smell, and touch flowers. I think I need to go into some flower shops and to get some flower books from the library. That seems like a good next step.