164.2

That’s what I weighed when I got up this morning.  Both a milestone and a meaningless piece of trivia, I’d say.  For maybe twenty years, I’ve wanted to weigh 165 but I always floated between 168 and 180.  What’s interesting to me is my reaction to having finally reached my goal: a warm feeling in my tummy and a Mona Lisa smile.  They’ve been with me all morning.

This is one type of happiness.  Can I say a lesser kind?  One that could fritter away when I step on the scale Wednesday and perhaps read 166.7.  Another happiness is always with me, sometimes way in the background, but still absolutely there.  And it’s so hard to describe.  Some smart person once said, “You can’t walk to your feet.”  They’re already with you.  You can’t get to those toed fellows by studying, by trying, by improving.  In one sense, there’s no journey to be taken.  There are no books to read.  No there that’s not already here.  It is by grace that I am opened to such happiness.  Not my doing.

On the other hand, can I really call one happiness lesser and the other greater?  What if my warm 164.2 tummy is all there is?  That the moment on the scale can’t be improved by “transcendent” happiness?  It is transcendent happiness.

And on I wander through the thoughts of the world.  Feeling lost at times but also strangely, deeply, found.  Making sense. Talking nonsense.  Glimpsing.  Forgetting.  Glimpsing again.

Why not celebrate it all?  I choose to let the joy of the scale bubble up, knowing that, like a bubble, it could go “Pop!” at any time.  I also choose to lie down in the mystery beyond good times and bad, bliss and despair, effort and release.

Who knows?  On Wednesday morning I may look down between my feet and see 0.0.

 

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