Happiness Surrounded

A friend took pictures of me the other day. It was kind of a wild experience. I'm *ok* with pictures, but it's not something I do all the time. The last couple of weeks, it's happened a lot. I feel exposed. Even though I know I'm just one little light in a grand sky,  I'm often worried I won't look right. People might see my flaws; I'll be found out. I'm playacting. This is my friend though; she gets me. I trust her. I'm thankful for the joy, creativity, compassion, and wisdom she brings to the world, and curiosity peaked, I went with it. It's all over now;  I keep looking and thinking back to one in particular. I don't know what she calls it, but I've taken to calling it Happiness Surrounded. Nestled among a few favorite instruments, dozens of memories float past. I try to catch them for a second, but then, I just breath and feel their companionship and  resilience. I don't sing or play spectacularly well. Twelve years ago, I didn't even *have* an instrument of my own.  At best, I'm fair to middling. If I'm in a group setting, I can almost guarantee someone or maybe even several someones will be better at everything than me. Although I try not to dwell, I can still remember some painful moments when I've been given helpful hints by people. Or even silenced. And yet, here I am.  Still plugging away. Making mistakes; finding my way. Adding new instruments. Stringing together the moments when it turns out right. When it fits. When I wobble but I walk anyhow.  When I can't.  When I crash. When I'm so raw, imperfect, and judged that I can barely breathe. When I'm still trying to figure out things I saw/heard months out even years ago. Here's the thing though: I don't think it matters exactly what our wish list items are or how well we do it: painting, writing, sportsmanship, careers, relationships, adventures...  I could go on.  We could wait a lifetime for someone else to tell us when we're good enough to do it--when we've earned it. That would be a waste. In case you haven't noticed, the days aren't getting longer. We can't pause time. It's hard to wish our way past the losses and fear. My uncles says we have to bushwhack our way past sometimes. He's right. So go. Find your perch. Find your people. Jump. Fly. Walk. Crawl. Live. String your joys together like a bazillion stars and let them guide you through the darkest moments. Name your constellations; tell your stories. Live them. Mourn them. Celebrate them.  It's risky; I know. The world is not always an easy place for Dreamers. Doubt *is* sticky. Falling *is* hard. *Living* is hard. Whatever you do, don't waste any more time waiting for someone else to open the cage. You have always held the key.  Your happiness is waiting to surround you. Don't outsource it.