Significant thoughts come at the oddest moments. Like when walking across Tesco’s car park about to embark on the weekly trolley-warfare of Saturday morning grocery shopping. Out of an empty sky this thought flew down, perched on my shoulder and whispered in my ear:
There’s really only one reason why my life is not overflowing, this moment and all moments, with joy: I don’t allow it.
Even though I know it’s there for the asking; know that all I have to do is allow joy to flow through me as it wants so much to do. Joy is not something out there, in hiding, waiting to be discovered; it doesn’t have to be earned as a reward; it isn’t achieved by enlightened understanding. Joy is not conditional on the results of anything I do, except one: it simply waits for the door to be unlocked and a channel opened for it to flow.