Happiness Is #235

Have you ever thought about the phrase “life isn’t exactly a bed of roses” and how it’s frequent use is for the purpose of implying that to be able to lay on the soft aromatic petals from those inspiring flowers would be an indication of an existence that was easy and desirable? The fact is that those blooms from those plants are indeed a wonder of color for the eye to see, and their sweet fragrance that permeates the air does entice us to lean in to smell them but what about why they have prickles that protrude from their stems? Or what of the balanced environment that those works of art require to grow in let alone produce their blossoms in comparison to other far more comfortable and yet still awe-inspiring greenery that are more flexible with what’s available to thrive in? Or what about the number of petals that it would take just to make a bed that was soft enough to want to rest there? In other words, it seems that a way of living would be pleasant if it were to only hold the ease of exactly what we hope for as well as our goals, but the real truth is that there is a lot of effort involved, as well as pain just from those sharp-pointed outgrowths, that has to be done to have that desirable place to lay. If we had to repeatedly do that work, over time wouldn’t we become tired of the stress of those flowers while no longer seeing their beauty and reaching to cover our noses to prevent their sweet but now pungent aroma from entering our nostrils? Wouldn’t their value fall and we would begin to wish for something else with the idea that life is unfortunately exactly like a bed of roses? Perhaps those plants would even eventually be perceived of as dreaded weeds? That particular phrase focuses on the beauty of a finished product as proof of a desired existence while leaving out the details that each bloom is merely the silent celebration of the challenging tempo and yet often inconspicuous journey of the whole rose bush that has prickles as a part of its story. Over the years of Ryan’s substance use, I had the strong desire to get to that particular part of my trail where life would be like laying on a bed of rose petals and the more it eluded me, the more desperate I felt to get there and the unhappier I became. Some of my “flipping out” back then was a result of that need as well as my limiting belief that happiness is the absence of problems or challenges and a place where breathing is never ever difficult. I thought that a mess couldn’t hold within it the key to finding different truths that lead to those out of the blue wins so closing the door was a better choice. In essence, I wanted the ease of a finished product without understanding the flexibility and patience required to achieve that while at the same time expecting Ryan not to fall when the prickles or the chaos pierced him. As I pass this way again, I imagine that he also had desired the celebration that is found at the end of a pathway but not the work that was and always will be required to get there. Happiness is what then? Is it a place in the sunlight that you think you see but it’s just out of your reach because you are surrounded by rose bushes that use prickles to clamber over everything in their path in order to get there for six to eight hours a day and don’t care if you get punctured in the process? Is it something that only happens when you can cry the kind of tears that come from laughing until your stomach hurts? Or is it that happiness is not the perfect environment but rather the showing up for you as you treat yourself to the experience of all of you? It’s taken a long time for me to perceive that Ryan’s words of “be grateful for the tough lessons mom” meant that happiness breathes wherever we are, but we have to look both ways in order to admire the beauty of the flowers as well as the sharp-pointed protrusions that pierce us. Happiness, for me, is not a destination but what anything can become if we adjust as we go along especially when in the weeds. I am five days away from the third anniversary of his death and I would happily go through every single dreaded “f” moment again just to see his smile and to feel his hug because our happiness lived as a part of the series of movements of our journey rather than the finished product seen at the end. After all, if you look through, you can see that it is most definitely not just about the flowers because it takes a lot of things just for a plant to even produce a single bud. Have the best day POSSIBLE for you as you discover what happiness is in all the ways you live your so very heavell life. Love Always, Heavell