Bliss

Pure bliss, according to my sweet girl, Cloey, is feeling the wind on her face.  This experience can either be had standing on a hilltop, nose to the breeze, as shown above, or in the backseat of a car.  Really, there is little difference in her mind.  The breeze is key.

As for me, pure bliss doesn't seem to come as simply.  A lot of stuff seems to get in the way.  So I have to work at achieving that state of simple joy.

For instance, I find that my mind goes a little nuts during the "free time" I catch every once in a while.  It comes as a bit of a shock to my system and thus my brain goes haywire with ideas.  This happens during vacation or, most recently, on Mother's Day.  My mind did an Olympics-worthy performance of backflips and somersaults when my husband told me I could take the afternoon to do

whatever I wanted.

Woo hoo!  Several hours at a time! Uninterrupted!  Just think of the possibilities!


Do I write? read? nap? paint? walk? run? organize? garden? eat ice cream? rearrange furniture? look at decorating magazines?  shoot some pictures? listen to music? do yoga? meditate? go shopping? play with Cloey? 


(That last bit was Cloey trying to interject herself into my stream of consciousness by radiating cuteness.) 

As my mind was going a mile a minute trying to envision the perfect, most pleasurable use of free time, I began to feel the opposite of joy. I felt anxiety creeping in as my mind became overwhelmed with options.  I then realized that perhaps some meditation would be a good choice.  Or, at the very least, I could just take a minute to ask myself the most important question of all:

What would make me feel really satisfied once I'm done?

I could answer that question easily: gardening.

I realized that I needed to physically work hard and clear my mind and my yard of overgrowth.  It was time to prune back and weed out the bad stuff.  Of course, I had to dress the part of the weekend warrior, so I selected my faded 1980's Esprit de Corps tank top and some black nylon shorts.  Bad to the bone, I was.

(I know what you're thinking: those items should probably be weeded out of my closet.)

(No comment.)

After two hours of pulling away the miles of ivy that had invaded our home, some neighbors stopped by and asked me why I was working on Mother's Day of all days.

(Or possibly to get a better look at my fashionable getup- I can't be sure.)

I told them, blissfully and with sweat beading on my brow, that I never get the chance to just work on my yard for an extended period of time.  I joyously proclaimed, "I need this!"

As the sun set and the once lively ivy was balled up en masse in my garbage can, I felt great. And my yard looked fantastic too, thanks to the assistance of my powerhouse of a dad who generously came over to help me.  (Another bonus: father- daughter time.)

I really couldn't have had a better day, primarily because I chose one truly satisfying thing that I needed to do that day.

When we ask ourselves what we want, the sky's the limit, especially with the information overload we face 24/7.  I'm the first to admit I'm sometimes guilty of "want" overload. And trying to make a much bigger decision like The Ideal Career can be maddening if you're mainly looking at everything that interests you.  If you are like me and most of my clients, you have lots of interests and wants and things you enjoy doing.  While they're important to pay attention to, they have their limitations.

When you're trying to decide on a career path, go beyond your interests and ask yourself the questions:

What is it that makes me feel really satisfied?
What do I need to do on a weekly basis?
On a daily basis?
When looking at possible meta career goals, which one makes me feel like I'm making a difference with my life?  With my work?  What will sustain me the most?

**************************

But enough of these big ole questions for a lazy Sunday afternoon, says Cloey.

She's decided she's just gonna stick with the breeze thing because it's working for her.


Unless, of course, she wants to

look at guinea pigs.

Or go frolicking in the creek...

What a rough life you have, Miss Cloey Margaret!

I'm beginning to think she makes a career out of enjoying herself.

Shouldn't we all?

Happy Memorial Day Weekend.