Joy is my Witness
Under the Willow Tree,
I was witnessing a change in the air. The way it smelled, the way it brushed against my skin. I took in the simplicity of the fences that outlined the boundaries of each home—reminding me of old stories once told. The pool in the backyard, the water so clear…so blue. As I put my hand in to test its temperature, I snatched it back quickly, it was unexpectedly frigid. I decided to take my shoes off to feel the deeply green grass beneath my feet. Before I knew it, I was running. And then, I stopped to do a cartwheel followed by a round off. I pretended I was still that cheerleader from high school. I felt myself being re-awakened to the simple pleasures of life.
My round off had pointed me towards the neighbors; I admired their trampoline and envisioned myself jumping over the old, wooden fence, scurrying on my tip toes across their yard to hop on the trampoline. I chuckled to myself, imagining their reaction as they peered out their window to see this grown, brown-skinned person jumping on their property. Would they call the cops? Would they come out yelling and screaming? Or would they just let me have fun, as they witnessed the joy it was bringing me? It was ridiculous, but it was freeing to think about it anyway.
As my thoughts departed from the trampoline hijacking, I noticed my niece had made her way outside. She was splashing her feet in the pool. I’d remembered that there was a mini scooter in the garage. I asked if she’d like to ride her bike with me around the neighborhood. She immediately jetted for her shoes. We struggled our way to the top of the hill, she on her bike and I on the scooter. Just before we raced back she warned me that her friends had all fallen off coming down the hill—but I didn’t care. The breaks don’t work as well when you’re coming down Untie D.J. You better be careful. I pushed my back right leg on the pavement to get my momentum going, I quickly picked up speed. For a moment, I did in fact panic. I imagined how I might hit the pavement, the scars and bruises that would mark my body, telling a story for years to come. And then I remembered as a kid riding dirt bikes having those same fears as I picked up speed or just before jumping a hill, but having this instinct turn on to lean into the exhilaration of it all. That same instinct eventually found and rescued me as I lowered my body to achieve greater stability under the moving ground. I felt so alive. I felt so free. I felt myself remembering things I hadn’t realized I’d forgotten. GOO UNTIE D.J., my niece yelled as she trailed behind me. When we reached the bottom I jumped off and said, lets do it again!!
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It was the willow tree that called to me this morning when I stepped out onto the grass in the backyard. The way it stood. The way its branches bent. The way its leaves dangled and swung in the air; it stood so assuredly. As I sat there under its haven, a beautiful red bird appeared.
I began to remember what those things were that I had forgotten. I was reminded of my natural ability to find stable ground again. Like the willow that stood, I reflected on the things that have continued to sustain me: the habits of mind, the faith and grace. I gently recalled the things that, in just a day, had offered me so much joy: walking on the grass barefoot, listening to nature’s melodies, being a reckless kid, cooking for others, spending quality time with family, remembering that laughter is a healing vibration. As the wisdom of the willow continued to fall upon me, I realized that there were still things that felt unresolved, things that getting out to the country hadn’t taken away—but that was okay. I had found the ground I needed. I was learning to live with things unfinished. And although I couldn’t let go of everything completely, I could hang on loosely. Loosely loosely loosely, I began to chant.
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When life feels overwhelming, daunting, complicated and unapproachable—trust your soul to lead you back to solid ground. When you remain open, you can trust that your soul knows how to bring you back to things assured. You can trust the wisdom within you and that which surrounds you, to find you and remind you of those things forgotten. Let joy be your witness this spring, allow joy to guide you to the places that heal and renew your strength. In joy, there is an all consuming power and wisdom that knows how to clear your heart.