We have more control over our joy than we think.~~~
After a very hot and humid week, we had a series of strong thunderstorms and heavy rains where I live in upstate New York. A blackout sent me to bed on the early side and I cracked the bedroom window open to hear the night sounds of the insects in the woods.
A big smile broke across my face in the dark as I heard the croaking of a bullfrog. I hadn’t heard frogs in quite a while as it had been quite dry. Even my quarter-acre pond was mostly dried up.
I felt such joy and reveled in the joy of the bullfrog singing. How happy it must be to have all of this water again! How happy I was to witness its joy. Then I got up to open the window a little more to hear this lovely creature a little better.
Surprise
Shock.
Dismay.
Anger too.
The vague sound of a bullfrog joyously singing was no bullfrog at all. It was the muffled groan of the neighbor’s generator, a neighbor whose presence and behavior has challenged my peaceful existence ever since he moved to the property next door a little over a year ago.
How dare he destroy the beautiful night sounds of nature with his mechanical monstrosity! We were notified, after all, that the outage would only last a couple of hours.
And then a switch turned on within me.
And next laughter.
Lots of laughter.
I could not stop laughing!
When I thought it was a bullfrog, I was so happy.
When I realized it was the neighbor’s generator, I was not so happy. It brought up all the bullsh&t I have had to endure.
And the laughter was because the very same thing evoked two very different responses.
And it was all in how I was thinking.
This was my Byron Katie moment of realization except I was not on the floor of a halfway house looking at an insect but in the bedroom laughing about a bullfrog, or what I thought was a bullfrog.
Bullfrog or Bullsh&t
To be joyful or not to be joyful, that is the question.
My neighbor has not been stealing my joy. I have been squashing my own joy and all in how I have been thinking about the situation.
While I can discern that changes may need to be made, namely I am looking to move, I do not need to be miserable in the process.
The shouting from his house: bullfrogs singing.
The kids’ dirtbikes revving: bullfrogs singing.
The lights lighting up my house and property all night long: more bullfrogs singing.
I can choose joy and write my own story.
Here a bullfrog, there a bullfrog, everywhere a bullfrog…singing.
Photo credit Steven Kirk on Pixabay.
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