My Happy Place


I have had a song in my head for the past three days.  It keeps me company and has a beginning phrase, and a short middle passage and then it ends on a happy note that is final, but in a lovely way.   It is not a song you would be familiar with since I created it.  I’ve been trying to distract myself from it, but it’s with me.  It’s what one would probably call a little ditty, if one was around, whoever one is. You know who one is, a cousin of they, them, and everyone.

It is nice to daydream of places that make me happy.  It is easier to imagine the places I have been, rather than consider what it would be like to be in new places that I have never visited. That, to me, is more work and challenges my imagination. When I go to my happy place, I know where everything is, what the weather is like, and who is there and what I am going to do.  It is a vacation of the mind.  This is very different from a being out of my mind, which is somewhat like a virtual voicemail that says “I’m currently out of my mind, so leave a message and the likelihood I will get back to you is as good as winning the lottery without buying a ticket”.  This kind of mental vacation is good for you.  It is a conscious attempt to revisit something that holds you.

In the past, I would have identified my place as somewhere near the ocean.  I like seeing the waves and tide going in and out and knowing what is past the horizon and watching the birds, and sometimes the people who are in my line of sight.  It is calming and constant.  More recently, I travel back to last summer at the goat farm my FHB and I spent some time visiting.  It was oppressively hot and dry and the heat beat down hard as I helped milk the goats and clean up after the horses.  It was hard work and physical labor, which is not something I have ever done, apart from moving fourteen times, and packing and unpacking.  That is about the extent of hard work of a physical kind.  I can smell the hay and the dirt and feel the heat off the animals as they try and flick away the mosquitos and flies.  I sit and watch the farmer tend the goats with care and affection and call them each by name.  In a short time,  I learn their names and personalities.  I want to know them again. I want to be there.  It still has such a strong hold on my heart.  The unfortunate part was that we were the last guests to visit as the farmer was moving his herd to a warmer climate down south.  Vermont was getting far too cold and too hard to make a living , so heading out made sense for him.

This is probably one of the memories that I have held onto for a longer time than others.  It became more than a vacation and turned into an awareness.   We can’t always look past what we have seen, despite trying.  It becomes more of our own fiber, and part of who we now are.  My takeaway is that we are constantly growing and refining what we are about.  This is one of those happy places, I have to build on to understand why it has impacted me to such an extent.  We have to allow these “intrusions” access to  our minds.  Between the goat farm and the song in my head, I feel quite busy and I welcome them both and anticipate that they will evolve into something I will figure out along the way.

This long weekend is always my favorite. It is like Saturday and Sunday and then another Saturday and Sunday.  How great is that!  Hope your weekend is good so far.  Don’t save me any pie. I am so full.




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