I sat in the lounge of the Sheraton Four Points Hotel yesterday, eating my curds and whey. (I think that’s from some fairy tale) The waitress and I had a few good mini-talks while she came and went. I wanted those talks to be longer but duty called.
I drank my white wine and devoured my honey garlic wings and read Toronto Maple Leafs articles on my phone. All in a cozy chair. So nice. Glancing over to the bar, I saw my serving friend chatting with a grey-haired fellow (just like me!). And their conversation extended, much to the delight of both.
After I got over the “Why not me?” reaction, I smiled. How marvelous that they’re connecting, making meaning, enjoying each other’s company. I should always be so happy in such circumstances. “It doesn’t have to be about you, Bruce!”
The Buddha had a lot of good ideas. My favourite is the thought of empathetic joy … being happy about the good fortune of another. It’s such a sweet thing to do. More of that, please.
Here I am on January 8, 2017, reflecting on my future joys. As much as I want the goodies of life, including a love, I marvel at the happiness I feel when a friend glows about her boyfriend. Clearly, I’m not the most important person in her life. I don’t make the biggest impact. I’m not the one she thinks of first. And the smile again.
As far as I know, all the you’s in my life have a primary other who isn’t me. Even though I hope a lovely woman will walk into my life and see me as her most significant other, that’s not happening right now. I bask in the redirected glow of dear companions gazing into the eyes of a third person. And I take pleasure in their union.