Grateful: Day 120 - Happiness?

not a shih tzu in a parka - a better-looking dog

I was lacklustre this morning, all no and never in my head. Even a bit later, not the most vibrant and positive of days. However, among the things that gave me joy are these:


Two dogs on the tube, both wearing parkas with pockets and hoods. They were shih tzus. I've never actually seen one before. They are little aliens of the dog world, with bulging eyes, a protruding row of tiny bottom teeth and faces of all kinds of dimensions, depending on their hair. They were dull in character, these two, but still quite fascinating. When asked if they ever let their hoods be put up, their owner showed me. They do. Put them at a bus-stop, give them i-pods, headphones and a cigarette to share between the two of them and they're London teens.

Brandy-ish

Brandy. A wide, beech-coloured pitbull/staffy-looking thing with a long scarf making do as a lead. He was on the end of a Liverpudlian man, homeless or perhaps just begging. Very friendly, both of them. The man offered me the dog for six months. Said he needed to go away, needed a good home for Brandy for that time. I can't tell you (I said) how much I'd like to say yes. I said no. I trust Brandy will find a home. 


A call with J. Speaking to her always does my soul untold amounts of good. A sane, funny, clever woman. A person I admire. A very fine egg indeed. 


A walk around London parks with lovely Ruth and her Ramblers. They're not a 60s rock band (though I'm sure if they were, they'd be awfully good). The walk was led by Chris, who I kind of know. I talked to a lovely lady about literature. I'm not sure I ever got her name, but she recommended Edith Wharton and a number of others. By the way, if anyone has fabulous novel recommendations, I'd be very grateful indeed. 

Some time to chat with Ruth and look at ducks. We saw four pelicans too. One had its head pretty much under its armpit against the cold. If only my neck had more flex. That's a skill I'd like. For cold purposes, of course. It'd also help when you just don't want to listen to someone. Can't hear with both ears flanked by pit. Probably can't see that well either. 


I watched three episodes of Misfits. I'm still not quite at one with watching stuff, but I enjoyed them very much. I like that show. Unfeasible doesn't really cover it - it's often totally random - but satisfying just the same. It's very well-scripted, I think. 


And my first ice-bound pond-swim. I got my wish. I didn't notice the extra thickness of the water, nor the tinkling, but the cold, I noticed that. Well, it's been two weeks or so since I've been in. When I arrived, I watched many birds do a Jesus, walking on invisible ice just at the border where it dissolved into the water. 


I walked in just as calmly as ever. I continued down the steps and let myself go. Once in, the cold took away my breath to some extent. My chest felt tight with it. I was duly exhilarated. I swam out as far as the filigree beginnings of the ice, though, that act of physics where it melts and freezes and forms again. I touched it. 


I'm sure when I was little, I was told that if you fell into icy water, you would die. Not an unwise thing to tell a child, perhaps (though I'd hope the power of suggestion would not take its hold, should the unthinkable happen). But it's not true, anyway. You don't die just because you fell into water with ice in it. Perhaps if you stay there, or if you get stuck under the ice. But if you've got yourself a little used to it, and you keep your breath going in and out and your limbs moving, there's a massive ratio of chance you'll just get out again and come back the next day for more.

Just being back at the pond was a beautiful lift for my spirits. I enjoyed talking to a lady I've met before, whose name I'm already unsure of again. She was very nice, though. And I enjoyed watching the ducks, some of whom looked like they were carrying crystals of ice with them on their feathers. What beauties.


Ruth and I were talking last week about happiness. One school of thought, and possibly one we share to some extent, is that the habit of being happy is partly to do with an ability to take the blows that life deals - because it does deal them - to feel them deeply and authentically, and to continue with your life with them in it as well as all the other stuff.

That means going to work/rehearsal/the flicks/to see friends, and doing the things that give you joy, even as the things that bring you pain are fresh and raw. It means remaining open to receive them, not closing down capacity for savouring things that give you pleasure, but embracing them. Embracing it all. Not saying no and never. Doing yes.