Muddy Toes

Joy rises up in me. It is simple. It is incomprehensible. Yet, I feel joy. I just went to a funeral… I don’t quite understand myself right now.

It was a somber experience. The room was full of people. The family that was left behind stood as a tight cluster of well dressed people. They hugged each other protectively while they shared one at a time, “He was such a wonderful man.” “I always felt special when he danced with me.” “He and I caught a fish, named him William, and then threw him back.” Their stories were simple, real and heartfelt. He will be missed. The lack of his presence will be noted. Being in that room reminded me of other times I have grieved. It reminded me that when we love we have so much to lose.

I left that place and came here. Driving through the early afternoon sunlight, I felt my heart pull me towards this place. I took off my shoes, my socks and left my car parked on the incline. I could feel the thick mud sticking to my feet. I got a few strange looks from the locals. One woman said, “Careful of your clothes honey, you are going to get muddy.” I just smiled.

I am sitting on a rock in the full sun. Sometimes a cloud floats by and I am temporarily touched by the chill of winter shade. Birds fly overhead, occasionally planes drone across the sky. My feet are muddy. I flip up into a handstand to dry them. Yes, this is real joy. And I can see across the ocean to Catalina. It is beautiful.

You know those moments when life is just so full that your body cannot take it in? This is one of those moments. I look at the world, and even though I know that so much evil and suffering exists in it, I don’t quite believe it. There is something both inside of me and outside of me, pressing down on every pore of my skin. Breathe in and out. Breathe in and out. Wiggle those muddy toes. Yup, that is joy. I’m glad I know what this feels like.