Bumping into Bliss

The world—and our country—feel like they’re on fire. Sometimes, comfort drifts in from memory.

People are afraid, stressed, and running dangerously low on hope.

This morning, I stepped outside to fill the birdfeeders, feed the turkeys, and check on my chickens.

And then the snow started falling.

The flakes were huge. There was no wind. You could almost hear their gentle thud as they met the ground.

I paused to watch them drift down, listening to the quiet of the forest around me.

And suddenly, I was carried into a memory.

It was one of the few times in my life I’ve experienced perfect, beautifully unexpected bliss.

I was in my mid-teen years, waiting to be picked up by my dad after some sort of function. One of my best friends was with me, waiting too.

It wasn’t late, but the sun had long since set, leaving the sky dark and inky black. And yet, it wasn’t scary at all.

From somewhere high above us, giant snowflakes were falling—peacefully, steadily—drifting down to earth.

Not wanting to miss the moment (and rarely able to stand still), I grabbed my friend and pulled her out into the snow.

We began to spin.

Round and round.

Spinning has always made me happy. I’m not entirely sure why—maybe the dizziness quiets my thoughts for a moment or two.

On that night, the spinning combined with the softly falling snow made us feel as though we were playing inside a giant snow globe.

It was truly magical.

Before long, we were both dizzy and laughing until tears streamed down our faces.

We spun and spun and spun, stumbling around, laughing like absolute loons.

Nothing else mattered in those fleeting moments.

Pure, unadulterated joy.
Gleeful.
Bliss.

I remember, with absolute clarity, recognizing—in the moment—that this was what I was experiencing.

For those brief moments, my heart and mind were clear.

No stress.
No looming projects.
No worries crowding in.

My wish for everyone on this beautiful blue marble we share is that you, too, bump into a perfectly unexpected moment of bliss.

Even the memory of such a moment can be a balm when pain and worry feel as though they might overwhelm you.

I think I’ll head back outside now and spin for a bit.