How Dare I?

As some pieces have fallen into place this week, as I’ve discovered crumbs of joy on the path, I have found myself doing uncharacteristically silly things – rolling my eyes heavenwards and saying “thanks.”  Doing a little “happy dance” when no one is looking.  Or a little “yes!” fist pump.  I guess I have read one too many Mike Dooley (Tut) “Notes from the Universe”!  But I truly believe that there is an aspect of the divine “up there” just waiting for us to say thank you.  It doesn’t need our thanks to function, but it must love knowing when we’ve found that next clue on the path. 

And yet in experiencing unexpected moments of joy, ease and insight, I have encountered a new dilemma, one which maybe some of you resonate with.  That is guilt.  How – even for one minute – can I feel an emotion of pure joy when friends are literally (physically) fighting for their lives?  When there are millions of people around the world going through various kinds of hell?  During Lent?  In the midst of this bizarre and troubling election year?  After listening to the news?  What gives me the right to be happy, even for a minute?  How dare I?

This wasn’t an issue for decades.  When I worked at Time Magazine as a Letters Correspondent for world and international news, tragedy and war were literally my daily bread.  Since leaving Time (how’s that for good metaphor?!), I’ve been fighting for my own life on a variety of levels.  Energetically, I have been living very similar challenges to so many the world over.  It is even possible that I voluntarily kept myself in a lower place just as a form of solidarity.  I’m not sure I was comfortable with the notion of being happier, healthier, wealthier, or more successful than others, even though this seems to place me utterly at odds with the American dynamic.

So these new, out-of-the-blue moments of joy, of power, of lightness and of intense love are not as easy to embrace as you might think, and this makes me understand why so many of us turn away from them.  Limit them.  Do the little happy dance, and then quietly disappear into the corner.  Hide our light under a bushel.  I feel the world’s pain so acutely, and just don’t understand how to allow myself a sliver of joy when at any given moment it may be so hard for others to access.  I’m still not quite comfortable with the spiritual equivalent of “putting the oxygen mask on your own face before helping others,” or just being an example of joy to others.

I guess for today, the best I can do is try to see life from the perspective of God/Goddess/Universe/Source.  Does this divine energy want the people of earth to be happy or miserable?  While I can’t know for sure, it would seem to be a no-brainer: happy.  Period.  Full Stop.  So just for today, I’ll allow myself this little gift of grace if it comes to me, and even try to extend it out another minute or two, with as little guilt and as much thankfulness as possible.  I’m pretty sure it can’t hurt.