Xanadu

"A place, where nobody dared to go.

Open your eyes and see.

What we have made is real, we are in Xanadu."

- Xanadu, Olivia Newton-John (1980)

***

I went to visit a friend yesterday and when I got home, she sent me a text that said, "When you have time, send me a short note that explains to me what you believe happy is."

(First of all, I'm completely incapable of a "short note".)

But as I thought about this for most of the day, I was surprised at where that question led my thoughts.  

Happy.

I started off thinking happy is an emotion I feel when all is well.   Like some sort of state of achievement or something.

Then I evolved to thinking about who I'm happy around.  My family and friends.   Colleagues.

Perhaps I'm happy in deep conversation.  

Music.  Music lifts my spirits and brings happiness.  

Traveling makes me happy.   Exploring something new.  

Being on the water.   

The feeling at the end of a long run and good work out.  

When my neighbor's granddaughter knocks on my door and wants me to come out and play (like I'm 6.)

I thought of the happiness that nature brings.   

Sunrise in all its glory and beauty.  A tropical rainstorm.  The coziness of Fall, the hope of Spring, and the healing nature of Winter.

Then I started thinking about the temporary nature of happiness.   

That it's a fleeting space between lessons in life, a landing pad we sit on for a little while until the page is turned to the next chapter.  It isn't a place to stay and camp out, but a break to pause before something new presents itself to work through.

Once I had sorted through all the external thoughts I had on happiness, I thought about her question again; What is happy to me?

Happy is going to bed at 10pm.  Music blasting in my ears while I run along the boardwalk.   A glass of wine on a Friday night when the air temp is still above 25.   Happy is an exquisite meal or great conversation.  The energetic hum of a huge stadium filled with people and captured by the sound of an incredible artist.  It is a blank page and an idea.  A swim at Ravinia when there isn't a soul around.  It is watching the sunrise with a pen in hand or the sanctuary of the yoga studio.  It is a feeling I get when my words have had impact.

Happy is a state I reach with my mind being clear, feeling light and inspiring others.

As I started going through this list, something occurred to me.

If all these things make me happy, why do I get so concerned if anyone else will approve?   

***

Every year we are up north at Tanya's cottage, I blow up my paddleboard and Margherita says, "There goes Sarah in her natural habitat."   

In my mind, the words I hear are, "I probably look totally selfish being out on the water when I should be with everyone else."

But if it was the other way around and I was sitting on the dock looking outwards, I would smile at her and think, "It is so good to see her happy."

So, the real answer to that text question, what happy means to me, is to live in alignment.

To be in complete alignment with who I am, what I need, and how I choose to live.  

Perhaps the timing of this question is something I've needed to reflect on.

If, at this stage in my life, I know exactly what I need to be happy - then why wouldn't anyone want to support that?   

It is the best damn version of me you are ever going to get.

Listening to my heart, watching the kaleidoscope of colors at sunrise every morning and being so unbelievably true to myself, that I am in the best possible condition to be present with everyone else.

Xanadu.

Happy.

❤️

p.s.   Fun fact:  From the age of about 9-13, the only songs I wanted to listen to were from Olivia Newton-John.  

p.p.s. I can recite all the words to the movie Grease, I wanted my hair cut to be just like hers (some years this was a better choice than others), and I used to "tape" and replay live radio, over and over, to hand write all the words to each song.

p.p.p.s.   I seriously thought the lyrics of "nothing left to talk about unless it's horizonal" in Let's Get Physical meant doing exercises with leg warmers on.

Little Rain

 "I could use a little rain

Beating on a windowpane

While we listen to the tin roof sing

A love song all day long"

- Morgan Wallen, Little Rain (2018)

***

A few weekends ago, I went to paddleboard at the beach on a Saturday morning, completely alone and not a soul to be seen.  

(I'm sure my parents would be thrilled to read that I'm alone on Lake Ontario.   Hopefully they miss this post.)

I watched the water as the waves swelled nonsensically, back and forth, without logic as to which direction they were going to turn next.   

I questioned if I should take the board out and then decided to do it anyways.  

I remember thinking, "I'll just go straight out a few hundred feet and turn around and come back if it's too tough."

(Again, praying my family isn't reading this.)

It was a crazy exercise in balance.   As I stood up, it took a second to get my bearings.  I held the paddle in the water to use as an anchor and feel the current.

And at first, I fought it.   

I found myself praying and trying to reason with the lake.   

Come on.   Settle down.

Come on, pleeeeease calm down. 

Seriously, this can't possibly last long.

Any second now.

I started to hear Melinda's voice, my yoga teacher.   

"Your body will do absolutely anything to avoid discomfort.  That spot that you want to avoid, that one you want to move past.   That's the spot to stay on.   Stay in it.  Feel all there is to feel and then let it go."

I started looking ahead. 

How much farther before the water calms?   How much longer until Mother Nature settles this all down?

I was getting antsy and thinking of turning around, wishing it would end.  

The irony was that I was already too far in.  

I looked back at the shore and looked at the direction I was heading, and out loud I literally said, "Okay, what do I do here?  Do I just call it?"

And then, clear as day, this is what I heard in my mind:

"Nice and easy Sarah.  

There is no rush.  

Watch your balance.   

Steady yourself.  

Breathe.   

You only need to focus on this wave, not all of them.  

Use the current to your advantage.  

That's it.

Watch the wave. 

That's it.  

Feel it.

Nice and slow.    

Ride it out.  

One wave at a time.   

Slow and steady.  

Find beauty in it all."

I could feel the lump in my throat.

Find beauty in it all.    

I took one wave at a time across the lake, and as I got to the bay on the other side, the water was like glass and the sun was twinkling on the water.

It was like Mother Nature was winking at me. 

She's pretty smart that lady, isn't she?

Perhaps that's the point.

To find beauty in it all.

One wave at a time.

I try so hard to get to the other side as quickly as possible, praying for a little rain, but maybe, just maybe - the lesson is that there is beauty in it all.

❤️