Another Sunday

I think joy is a deep sense of well being.

I lay in bed in bed this morning, feeling the edges of myself under the warm covers. Chickens clucked next door. Sun poured onto the bed. I picked up my phone and the world far away from my bed came to visit. Friends in beautiful places. Writers with exciting news. In seconds, my little world felt very dull and uninspired. And, if I lay there one second longer, my life would be wasted.

Holy crap, what a way to wake up. What a way to spoil a perfectly fine morning. Well-being leaked out of me.

What if we lived each day without comparison?
What if every minute we knew we were good and delightful?
What if we felt the edges of ourselves as the possibility to know another?
And to let them know us?