When I was in my twenties, I didn't have much of a vision of the future. If you'd asked me what I wanted my life to be like, the only thing I could come up with was: "Not this".
I couldn't imagine that one day I'd sign up to climb a mountain. I was so deep in the hole that I didn't even know mountains existed. The only thing I aspired to was level ground. Or maybe still a hole but not that deep. Sort of.
Now that I am standing at the edge of my very own crater, I can see all the level ground in the world. And the mountains. There are other things in life beyond "not feeling horrible". There is something else to do besides getting myself out of the mess.
I can create things.
I can pick a mountain to climb.
Or I can set up a tent right here and fill the crater with water. It would make a beautiful lake, don't you think?
I always thought of joy that way. The deeper your crater is, the more joy you can fill it with. It is a beautiful metaphor but it is also limiting. I am not sure you need a whole crater of suffering just on the off chance that you get to fill it up with rainy joy. Maybe it's not meant to be a lakeshore resort. And maybe a bucket is enough. And maybe, they also smile in the desert and dunes are where the real joy lives.
I don't know.
It might be different for everyone. It might just be that I was looking for something pretty to do with the pit in the middle of my chest and flooding it seemed like a good idea. Internal beautification and all that.
Anyway, now there is a lake where the pit used to be and things are growing lush and full. There is something of an island nation rising from the bottom of the lake. Apparently, I have spiritual grandmothers. Who knew that my inner voice would turn out to be a gaggle of old ladies.
I think I'll just enjoy the postcard view for a while and sip some cocktails with my grandmothers.