Micro Dosing Joy in May

It's May Madness, and it doesn't matter if you are a caregiver or not; May waits for no one and takes no prisoners. The month began with a sublime dance concert for my younger son, a visit from a retired but renewed colleague I hadn't seen in years, who is proof that there are still supercitizens in the world. Then it tumbled into all the obligatory events that happen in May when you are an educator-parent.

We have two graduating seniors in the house who, as of today, have finished all their curricula, collected their caps, gowns, and special cords & tassels, and only have to wade through the stream of final exams to complete their journey and move on to the next adventure.

Unfortunately, as the dice roll would have it, they both graduate on the same day, at the same time. 😩 Due to the condition of my husband, we cannot split the duty. I am terribly sad that I will miss one of the graduations, but my older son has a girlfriend and friends with family members ready to take photos and videos for us. I accept that I am vanquished here.

Alchemizing Pain

I spend a lot of time in my head thinking about the human experience. About how both pain and joy are our twin birthrights. They belong to us. Joy doesn't have to be earned or sought after; it arrives exactly when it needs to be present. Pain is also our birthright. Many of us, including me, spend a lifetime trying to avoid, mainly emotional pain, but you can't hide from it. The pain resurfaces again and again. It has taken me most of my adult life to learn that leaning into pain, holding its hand, leads to an inner fortitude previously hidden from me. And the way eases a little. I guess this is what they mean when they say 'hug the monster'. Or when Rilke said,

perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave. (Letter 8, from Letters to a Young Poet)

Really, that full letter is amazing. Highly recommend reading it all the way for other wisdom bombs.

These days are particularly hard at home, pain present and rearing its toddler-tantrum head, my husband's agitation peaks even while listening to music, nothing I can improvise or say changes his paradigm, or gives him peace. And yet, by some random magic, occasionally there is a moment in which the mist in his mind clears, and he can hear the music and take my hand and dance for just a brief moment. It is never more than a minute or two. But what wondrous joy. That is the gift you get when you allow the pain to be with you and you with it. You get to alchemize it into joy. For those of us trying to lock our hearts in Arctic ice to avoid ache, I can say it's infinitely better to feel the pain and then be astounded by joy.

The Nervy Ten

In the last installment of the Joy Diaries, I shared that I had begun a new creative project, which is basically the ramblings of a caregiver's mind when I can catch 10 minutes of free time before bed. The first issue went live about a month ago, and I am just about to release the second issue. As it turns out, the writing wants to be in a certain form, which means a little planning is in order. 😅 No matter, it is another moment of joy to collect these musings– and I am beyond grateful that I can ponder, write, and share with you all.

With gratitude for the journey in front of us~ 😇

May peace and comfort be with you this day.

~🌊 Bridget