Re-Discovering Joy

Everything has shifted.

I write this sitting on the floor of my new room in a more-than-hundred-year-old brownstone on the Upper West Side, literally a stone's throw from Riverside Park.

As soon as I woke up here the first morning, I felt compelled to run. Riverside Park is the ideal place to run on every level I can think of. A former marathoner, I have largely abandoned running since I moved to DC three years ago, sprained my ankle, and became a yoga addict.

But the riverside path calls to me.

In the past, I always ran because I wanted to get more fit, lose weight. Right now, I am the thinnest I can remember being, not for being in great shape but because of the heartache and anxiety the past few months have provided. I've lost my appetite.

Yesterday and today, my first two mornings waking up here, I ran just to run. Just for the feeling of it, the moving freely, the rush.

This past Tuesday, my grandmother, age 93, moved into a nursing home. After a few weeks in the hospital, she had lost much of her mobility. I watched her get winded while walking down the hallway, assisted by a walker and the physical therapist.

She always took such joy in her daily exercise. It was so strange to witness her wanting to stop walking, to sit back down in the wheelchair. She was never one to sit down.

Movement is a gift.

On that same Tuesday, the man I called my boyfriend for the past year and a half boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. Though I've been preparing for the loss for a while, now it is actually here. I'm in New York, and he is gone. I wandered the streets last night, trying to reconcile with my new reality. I found no clarity. Eventually, I went home, and went to sleep.

Then I woke up, and went for a run.

In times of great loss, we can reconnect with the gifts we still have, especially the ones we may have overlooked for a while. I am enjoying the re-discovery of running on a beautiful spring morning. I think, I hope, there will be many other joys to re-discover. And maybe even new joys to uncover.

Now, I'd better get to unpacking.

GO SEAN ROWE!!!

Sean Rowe, a wonderful folk singer/songwriter from my hometown area, is performing on the Jimmy Kimmel show tonight. Like in a few minutes. Like I have the TV on, which I hardly ever do. I've written about Sean before. He's a great musician and a great guy. I used to go to his open mics and shows back in the Albany area. Actually, come to think of it, I first met him because I played a set during one of his shows, way back in the day. And now he's playing on national TV!

I'm kind of bugging out about this. Okay, time to watch.

Beauty Against the Backdrop

Sometimes the bad times are quite beautiful in their own ways. When life is falling apart, when you're losing things, when there's pain, it becomes necessary to hone in on the good things, to focus on them and observe them closely, intensely, in slow motion. To fixate on them. Maybe this is why sometimes the fondest memories are created in the bad times. Normal, everyday joy, set against the backdrop of sustained despair, is euphoric.

And, I am not quite as despondent now as I was a week ago. Perhaps I have settled into the new reality, especially as the details become more concrete. I am still being left, but I understand and accept it as what must happen. As a friend said to me, "Acceptance is letting go of the idea that things could have been different." I see exciting new possibilities on the horizon, of a new job and things I will learn and people I will meet. A new place to live will mean new friends and experiences. I will get to fall in love all over again. (With my track record, probably many times over again, HA!)

I have started to share my situation, my need for help in this moment, with everyone I know. I have already been receiving tremendous support, and am now receiving even more. I feel like I am being held firmly in loving arms, surrounded by a wide circle of people who are not going to let me fall.

I just have to keep climbing.

Ultimately, I need to help myself by taking the necessary actions, going through the process, of looking for and applying for the things that I need. Taking each action, each application, each piece of searching, as part of the process which will ultimately bring me the things I need, and not letting the fact that most of them will result in nothing, make me feel like the process is for nothing.

The same can be said for relationships. Not looking at this failed relationship as anything more than a piece of the process. Perhaps the process of eventually finding a lifelong love. Or at the very least, the process of learning to love, learning about myself. And a reminder that we don't actually get to keep anything this life, especially people.

Through this all, I am finding intense joy in the good things. A nice stretch. A delicious cup of coffee. The way the raindrops look beautiful freckled on the window. The chivalrous gesture of a handsome stranger.

I'm not alone. I have so many people rooting for me.

And Spring is coming.