Can’t You Just Answer the Question
I did
When Trista Ainsworth tagged me in her lovely article “How to Live in Joy, I was at a loss of what to write. At first glance, her request was simple. ‘Share with us something that brought you joy in or around your home lately.’
It’s one of those questions, you’d love to hate. The answer is near, embedded in your brain, just like a rock at the bottom of water. All you need to do is dip you hands into the water, pick up the rock. Rise up, fling your hand triumphantly towards the heavens and proclaim proudly to the world, I got my answer, here it is.
The water appears as a trickling shallow stream, with waters so clear, you see the sun baked rocks, lounging comfortably on chocolate coloured silt. Boldly you bend and dip your hand in, then everything changes. The water thickens, becomes mud. Your thoughts no longer flow clearly and your heart beats faster. You doubt if there is an answer and look frantically around the room for help, inspiration.
What brings me joy? My eyes flit from object to object A journey through each room Empty My mind trails my day from waking to sleeping Nothing
The answer is there, somewhere in the deep, murky waters of buried silt. Nope! Still can’t find answer.
Funny isn’t it? Finding rocks was Trista’s joy. The very thing I needed to answer her question.
Here is her story below.
Back already?
Nothing’s changed, I’m staring into dark brown waters wondering if I have a soul.
ends
Dear Trista,
By now, you must be totally bemused. “I asked a simple question, how deep can it be?” You are right. Humans make the simple things in life extremely complicated. Answers are never in the deep for us to find. They are out in the open, carried on whispers, counted in the scent of life, visible through the prism.
You see, I made the fundamental mistake every human makes; trying to find answers instead of opening our eyes to see.
Profound huh.
Can you see it now? Can you feel it? You must, it’s oozing through every word. What brings me joy around my home?
Sitting in my orange chair, on a white empty table, fingers clicking on a keyboard making the music as my brain dances through words, a stochastic rhythm of noise. Crafting sentences saying nothing, but in a moment says everything.
This brings me joy, and thank you for asking.
Your friend,
Bonus
Here’s a short story of something that brought me joy, a lesson and hope.