This post is just to record present happiness levels. They are high. Not soaring high, but just enough. Enough so there’s a mellow hum in my heart, a spring in my step. This sense of everything being in its place, and a rhythm to everything that I do. There is flow, there is equanimity. There is a reservoir of calm. There is a promise of peace and oneness, a feeling of coming, being, at home.
I am not jostling for space. I am not running helter-skelter. I don’t feel like I’m spread too thin.
I’m just happy. Plain and simple, after what feels like a rather long time. (But a look back tells me exactly when I felt a similar goodness, and I realise it wasn’t so long ago.)
I’m happy that I’ve been able to continue working out, uninterrupted. In fact I’ve discovered I quite like working out in solitude at home. I’m glad I’ve been fighting the urge to sleep in, and have managed to get up and get going everyday. It’s a bloody good feeling to have worked out and showered before 8 am and have the whole day ahead of me to do as I please. I know that sounds like I’m raring to go out and about, but the truth is most of those days were spent lounging at home.
I’m feeling that old itch to push my body resurface. That extra rep, that whole extra set, that extra HIIT burnout round at the end — I’m feeling that burn to do it all again. Just the way that I used to. Pushing my body and seeing it achieve things makes me happy. Endorphins make me happy.
I’m glad we’ve been eating at home as much as we have, because it means I have more control over what I eat and what goes into it. I’ve been able to push my intermittent fasting up to 16 hours this week and eat low carb dinners of my choosing before 9 pm every day. This is a serious boon. Eating well, eating healthy keeps me happy.
I’m happy that for the first time in my life I’m feeling a sense of balance and the promise of sustaining this without swinging wildly to the extremes.
I’m really glad D kicked the planting bug alive in me again with just a bag full of cuttings fresh from her garden, because it really made me move my arse on the repotting and the plans for more plants that I’ve only been thinking and talking about a whole lot. I was feeling a little sad about how I only just did this whole exercise at home in Bangalore, but couldn’t stay long enough to enjoy it, but didn’t think an extended stay here meant that I could very well do it here too. So, I got my hands dirty and did the work myself, spending a greater part of Sunday doing this by myself. Sticking my hands in soil makes me happy. The smell of wet earth, the woodiness of mulch, the slight stickiness of manure, it makes me happy. Fresh green plants in the sun make me happy.
These fools make me very happy. In a way that I actually don’t have words for. Some people are overjoyed to meet their friends kids. I guess this is the equivalent of that in my world. I get the joy. Puppers unabashedly wanting endless petting make me really happy.
This feeling of peace and happiness even in the face of impending uncertainty is new. I’m just happy to be experiencing it.
One year ago: You’re beautiful, it’s true