In Search of All Things Beautiful

I wanted to start this post with apologies for absenses, for reasons for time away, for all of those things you feel you have to say when you stopped doing a thing and hid for a good long while. But...I am not going to! Because that's not what I am here for. I'm here to be a compassionate joyful being, so let's do that instead. 

One of the compliments I get a lot is how open I am, how I am really good at small joy and delight and making people feel cozy and comfortable. I've been thinking about that a lot lately, and what that means and how it works and how I make it happen...and my brain just stops. Like...I don't know! There's no secret sauce, it's just...I think about all the times in my life I felt like I didn't fit, that I was unhappy and lonely and how much that hurt. So I seek joy, first and foremost, and I make sure I can make room for people to also feel that joy. Can it be that simple?

I have been praying with some friends lately, just because. I kinda forgot how to pray for a while, which sounds silly because as a Baha'i, we have all these amazing prayers that Baha'u'llah and Abdu'l-Baha and The Bab revealed for us, but there's a difference, I think, between "I can read these words out loud like a parrot repeating stuff they've heard but don't understand" and "My heart is using this to talk to God". But slowly, I am figuring out how to open that part of me again. It feels good to sprinkle those drops of joy into the world, slowly, on my own terms.

This quote has been on my mind a lot, too. It feels like a HUGE ask, to be a centre of attraction, just by...being. How does that even work?
 

At first I decided I couldn't ever do this, that I wouldn't ever be enough of the right things. I think of all the ways Baha'is talk about Abdu'l-Baha as like our best and brightest example of how to do all of the Baha'i everything, and my brain just stalls out. I might like cats and I might be good at sharing cake, but I can't ever do all of these things! I can't! It's impossible! I'm never going to get all of these things right enough to ever have the people of a city unquestionably say I'm a Baha'i....can I? 

One of the things I'm re-learning lately, though, is that it doesn't have to be an all or nothing proposition. Sure, I might be SUPER bad at things some days, but God made me and wanted a me just like me in the world, so I might not be perfect, but I'm here for something. 

So I will keep loving on people, I will keep dancing to my music when I walk, I'll keep sharing cake and helping neighbours figure out Zoom, I'll keep being all of my authentic self, because I think that's how we do this. We exist, we breathe, we love, we admit we don't have it all together, but that we're going to keep trying. And we say prayers, we cry, we laugh, we dance, we tell people how awesome we think they are. If we keep showing love, compassion, and honestly share of ourselves, then that's how people will see how Baha'is are. 

We're not perfect. And that's okay! We don't have to be. In fact, some of my best conversations about Baha'i life have come from me admitting how often I feel like I am secretly three trash pandas in a trench coat desperately pretending that we're a whole and functioning adult. Because it takes off some of that weird expectation that faith needs perfection. It doesn't! We're all messy. 

Love yourselves, friends, even when you're messy. You're always worth that love. I'll remind you of that, endlessly and always. 

Threw Our Roses in the Snow

It's...suddenly very winter. This week went from "oh hey I can still get away with running shoes and my middle weight coat" to "BOOTS HATS MITTS BIG COAT ALL OF IT ALL THE LAYERS". Complete with large piles of snow everywhere.

It's cold, it's dark, it's not my favourite time of year. Coming home from work in the dark is hard, and I miss green and growing things. Sparkly snow is nice, but then I think about the sidewalks not being safe, and I lose my happy.

So, I am trying to focus on the things that...aren't dark cold misery slush gross. Like how people are getting excited about the holidays (whatever wintery ones you celebrate). This is my first holiday season since I declared, and it's something I've been thinking about a lot lately. How do I integrate my new Baha'i self, with all the holiday stuff around me?

I mean...mostly, it's not gonna change. I'm still excitedly finding Christmas gifts for my loved ones (I bought the BEST book for my nephew, and I can't wait to read it with him), planning events with my family and friends so we can see each other and eat delicious things (that reminds me, I should find my speculaas recipe...) and enjoy each other's company. I might not "do Christmas" in the same way my Christian family or friends do, as in it's not a Baha'i holy day or anything, but I still love the happy spirit of it, and the chances to remind people I like that oh hey, yes, it's dark, its cold, there's snow everywhere, but we can find the joy amidst all of that.

So, I'm starting my list of card-sending, like I try to do when I can afford it. They might be Christmas cards for my Christmas-celebrating friends, or just "hi I like you, good job surviving the snow so far" cards for my non-Christmas friends, or whatever it is my loved ones find important about this time of year. Because yes, it's prompted by this outpouring of love and connection that this time of year seems to bring up in people, but mostly, it's a good excuse to go "HEY YOU, YES YOU...I like you, thanks for making it through another year with me."

And then today I realized...it's actually MORE FUN being a Baha'i this year! Because once Christmas is done and all the ornaments are packed up and the tree is gone and we've welcomed a new year....WE GET TO DO IT AGAIN. Kinda. Not quite the same, but still.

You see, the Baha'i calendar is...not the same as the "normal" calendar.  Our calendar starts on Naw-Ruz which set on the vernal equinox (so March 21 ish). We have 19 months of 19 days, and there's always a few days that don't fit into that. Some people call them just the Intercalary Days, which okay yep, true, but they're also a festival! It's called Ayyam-i-Ha, and it's basically about socializing with people, being hospitable to people, sharing with the poor and needy, and just...getting your celebration and joy on before the month of fasting (which is the last month of the Baha'i year).

This year, Ayyam-i-Ha is from February 26-29. So right in that bit of winter where you're pretty convinced that Spring might just not make it here this year! I realized that there's nothing stopping me from also sending people cards for Ayyam-i-Ha, so this year, I'm gonna try. I figure most people I know will appreciate the bit of non-bills related mail, and it's a bit more unexpected joy, which the world is in much need of. I'm kinda excited for this - I like the idea that before I get into the fast, where I'm all comtemplative and recharging my spiritual batteries...I get to recharge my friendship and community batteries too.

I am probably going to try to make my own cards, because that sounds like fun (and I am pretty sure the dollar store won't have any Ayyam-i-Ha cards), so that will be a fun chance to be creative too.

I'm slowly figuring out how to integrate my Baha'i bits with the rest of my bits, and it's a fun adventure. Although I promise, I won't send lots of glitter on the cards. :)

The Way You Keep The World At Bay

Some days, it feels like the world is pressing in on every side, that it is all but impossible to see anything good in anything. It just feels like so much, too much, like it's better just to curl up in the darkest dark and not be.

I hate those days. I hate every last inch of them, and I spend so much of my life fighting against them, tooth and nail. The world needs more joy.

In my Ruhi 2 group this week, we were asked to rank things we liked according to how much joy they brought us. It was trying to make a point about how teaching the Baha'i Faith can bring us immeasurable joy, but I just ran face first into that question, and it was like my entire brain came to a screaming halt. How could I possibly *rank* joy? The joy of snuggling my cat and feeling his rumbliest whistle-y purrs when he is most content is COMPLETELY different than the joy of delving into a new romance novel by one of my favorite authors, and both of those are, again, COMPLETELY different than the joy of coming home and seeing my husband, still in my house. (I don't know if that will *ever* stop bringing me joy.)

I live my life by two things - starfishes and teaspoons. Starfishes remind me I can always make a difference, even if it is just a tiny one to one person, and teaspoons remind me of similar - emptying the ocean one teaspoon at a time will take a really long time, but it's very easy to hand people a spoon. Small things are my bread and butter. I love living by a paradigm that just seeks out small joy, because it means I get to experience joy more often.

A perfect example of small joy happened the other day - my husband and I were coming home from groceries after a long (but good) day - we'd done important government paperwork errands, we had gone to the splash pad with my sister, my nephew and my mom (chasing a toddler around the park is delightful and exhausting all at once), we had gotten my husband a new phone and set up banking for him here in Canada, and we'd gotten groceries and I was *tired*. I almost fell asleep on the bus home from Walmart, I was just *done*.

We get to our stop, and I manage to get the granny cart of groceries off the bus, and this little girl (less than ten for sure) comes rushing up to us, a fistful of daisies in her hand. I look over to her parent, who nods, and she brightly informs me one of these daisies is for me, and handed it over. It was *so* simple. A single tiny daisy, given freely and with much joy. I told her, emphatically, that she'd just made my day, and she beamed a bright happy smile at me before joining her parent on a nearby bench again.

It wasn't anything big or fancy, but it really did make my day - it was a reminder that even when I am tired, even when I think a good day couldn't get better (I mean there had already been toddler giggles and french fries and sliding down slides and the cool water of a wading pool against my toes, time spent with my family, reminders that my husband is really, really and truly, here to stay, all in just one day!), the world can still surprise me.

As Abdu'l-Baha reportedly said,  ""Joy is the best cure for your illness. Joy is better than a hundred thousand medicines for a sick person. If there is a sick person and one wishes to cure him, let one cause joy and happiness in his heart."(Attributed to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, from the 1906 Pilgrim Notes of Ali Kuli Khan). So if joy is really all of these things, and can do these things, why wouldn't we want to experience it as often as possible?

When asked about what brings joy, we always seem to try to think of the most pure, the most holy, the most selfless giving acts humanity is able to do. Prayer, acts of sacrifice and service to those who have less or are in harder spots, acts of worship, all of those are things people will tell you bring them joy - as if we are afraid to say that a good cup of tea, or finishing a tricky puzzle, or finally making our grandma's gingerbread recipe turn out the way she did bring us joy, because that doesn't feel big enough. 

Here's my challenge, dear and beloved friends - take time to feel joy. Find it in the way you feel when your favourite treat is on sale at the grocery store, the way it feels when you get not-bills in your mailbox, the way it feels when a baby laughs or someone you loves smiles in that secret way that reminds you they think the world of you. Find it in a pair of clean socks fresh from the dryer, in a perfectly made bed with your favourite sheets, in having perfectly timed transit that gets you to where you need to be when you need it. 

Live, unafraid to seek the small joys with delight and abandon. It's not going to make every moment perfect, but you get little bits of happy for your soul more often, and I think that's it's own bit of magic.