Happy Day

I find it interesting,  almost fascinating, that, while in the midst of a terrible illness, uncertain about where the money for next month will come from, unable to accomplish even a fraction of what I used to be able to do, here I sit, feeling almost content, perhaps fully content. I am comfortable in the midst of my body's discomfort. I am happy, even though I have so much to be unhappy about.

I won't lie. I'm not feeling well. In fact, thanks to vertigo, I'm not even feeling all that good. Yet within me, within my spirit, I am calm, capable. While I am not enthused, I am certainly ready for a good day. The greatest difficulty I face is a body which is failing me. In my heart and mind, all that can be good is good, all that can be happy is happy, all that can be content is content.

Perhaps that is what makes this state of mind so interesting. How can I possibly be happy like this when so much is failing in my life and body? How can I possibly feel this content when I have lost so much of my physical ability? I suspect the reality lies in my now learned ability to see how much my body is not me, to see how much my spirit and mind live inside of a dying outer physical husk. It is an interesting philosophical, psychological study, to see myself living and dying at the same time.

It might be the Christmas music playing on my sound system. It might be the care from Samhar this morning. It might be the fruit plate I made yesterday and am enjoying today. Yet I don't think so. I have learned that happy surroundings don't make me happy. What makes me happy is the gratitude I feel for having today, for having lived through many days past, for the hope of a better tomorrow. What makes me content is knowing that I am safe, in good hands, surrounded by people who love me, who care about me, who give me a reason to keep living. I am happy when I remember how fortunate I am.

I'm going to have a good day, a happy day. ALS be damned.