Today, I marveled at life. I’m feeling all whole and full inside lately. Buoyant, even. Like a little apple that continues to happily bob along in the water.

It’s really good. Life is really good. And lately, I’ve been feeling it.

“Nothing cataclysmically amazing has happened,” I told my friend Kevin who called me from LA tonight, “But I’m just feeling so good inside.”

“That’s great, Jess!” he said. “And it’s okay to feel happy just, you know, like normally. Even if there aren’t great events that are making it so.”

This is good to know.

And my mom–she is good to know. 50% Italian and 100% adorable, that one. And since I am half of whatever she is, I suppose that makes me 25% Italian and 50% adorable.

50% is better than nothing!

Oh, and I like to make cards. “I am happiest–absolutely thrilled!–when I am making something,” I told my friend Nick tonight. “Even if it’s just a puppy sign. My heart sings when I am busy creating, is the thing.”

Speaking of making things, these friendships have been years in the making. Decades now, actually. I’m a lucky girl, to have two such as them love me.

And who doesn’t like tiny mittens? They were on the outside of a gift from a new friend this year. And I knew just what to do with them.

Oh, it’s terrible English, I know–and I cannot remember where I first heard this phrase–but it keeps running through my mind tonight. I have this sense of contentment, of wellness, that feels even bigger than my body, if that makes sense. Like my fingers only go so far when I reach; but, oh! this feeling of peace, it extends. Further than I knew, maybe.

And I feel, well, all full up.

Like the holes that have been poked through my psyche and my heart and my mind have started to patch. And you know what? I’ve always really liked patches. One of my favorite parts of flying in an airplane is looking down and seeing the land assembled like a patchwork quilt.

Which is something else I love. I’ve always wanted to make one, actually. And I’m gonna do it someday, too. And then I’m gonna give it to a really special person. You’ll see.

But maybe it was the shooting star I saw, falling like a thread of silver through the black sky; or the very short run I made with my dog in the kind of night that is so dark, it forbids you from seeing your own hand in front of your face; or the honest and free laughter that I shared with my parents (some laughter isn’t free; unkind laughter takes from you, leaves you in a debt that is hard to pay back); or talking to some friends late tonight in a house made warm by a yellow fire and happy by music; or the choreography I taught to a friend who loves to dance, sees it as a kind gift from an even kinder Creator; or maybe I could cite every last good thing I can remember and still not quite define what has me all full up tonight.

Maybe it’s like stripping the rose of every last petal in an effort to find what makes it smell so lovely–this peace, this life, this love–it’s big. Bigger than me. Bigger than one day or night. And I am happy, so happy to be included in it. I feel like traces of the song God first sung to cause everything in this old world to grow and breathe and bloom and be can be heard tonight.

And it has me all full up.

Don’t worry, Jase was jumping, too.

Just from behind the camera lens.

And all those boulders behind us?

We climbed them.

And there was quite a discrepancy over my hat.

The general consensus was that it is yellow; I maintain it’s a sort of green.

The kind of green you’d find on the carpets of a house built in the seventies.

My sister and I go back east tomorrow; I don’t want to say good-bye.

I hate that part.

But when people are in your heart, you can live just about anywhere and not be too far, is what I’ve found.

I wish that changes of the heart were as easy as changing a song.
No, actually, I don’t think I do.

Truth is, I am not the best anything in the world.

But that doesn’t really matter. Because who is? Not being The Best In The World is peripheral compared to this: What is it that you love?

And I mean real love. The kind that makes your heart beat faster and your body feel electric as you push yourself and find that you’re doing things you never imagined you’d do. Not ever. Maybe for the guy who’s shy, who’s never read Shakespeare–maybe he’s suddenly writing a poem to some blue eyed girl in Minnesota that, just by her very presence, has transformed Minnesota into some kind of wonderland. A place where dreams are born.

What I mean is, being in love transforms you.

And I love to dance.

Which is why I went to samba class again tonight. Why the four drummers playing in the corner were changing the beat of my own heart, turning it into something that went bum, BOOM, boom, boom, for a change. And why I shook my whole body for about an hour and a half. These are the kinds of crazy things that people do–people who are in love, I mean.

And no, I am not the best dancer in the world.

But do you refrain from falling in love with another person for the mere fact that you are not The Best Person In The World?

No, you don’t.

And that doesn’t matter at all.

Heck, that doesn’t even exist at all.

You fall in love, and then you’re doing crazy wonderful things (one hopes). You’re stopping at nothing to make sure you’re the very best vehicle for that pure strong love to flow through, and you point it nowhere but in your beloved’s direction.

So it is with the things that we love to do, I think.

And I remembered tonight, while shaking it in samba. I remembered how much I love to dance. And that’s something, guys; that’s really something.

(It’s the first thing I’ve written on my ukelele)

Lyrics:

Though life’s not quite always what it seems
You still need to paint the world with all your dreams;
Even though the colors change from time to time,
My friend, you stay yourself, you stay sublime

For the monsters, they come out when it grows dark
That’s why you light a candle with your heart;
and to the hungry, we speak words that become bread
we say good things to our friends and they are fed

So light the world on fire, and I’ll spread a blanket on a hill
Where I will watch it glow from now until–
all the world’s ablaze or at least unfazed
By those who tell us not to dream

Thank you, Christine, for continuing to believe in all the good and perfect things that God gives so generously. Thanks for always reminding me of these things. Please never stop. And happy birthday, my friend.

*photo credit goes to the lovely Krista Connor

For no apparent reason.

Sure, I can blame it on Ted, the super friendly former ballet-dancer-now-turned-theater-dancer I met at Lululemon today. We commiserated with each other over how difficult tap is after you’ve been studying classical dance. He is tall and skinny like me. Except he has bright blue eyes, which is not like me. But his kindness truly lifted my spirits. It reminded me of a t-shirt I saw the other day: KINDNESS IS MY RELIGION.

And then there was the guy in Bed Bath and Beyond. He was at the cash register and I told him how beautiful the day was outside and then he said something funny. “Look at you, all smiling,” he said. “You make me feel like I must be sad compared to you, cause you’re so very happy!” He said it with a smile that let me know he wasn’t really that upset about it. Which only furthered my own smile, of course. And in the moment? I was happy.

And I witnessed it.

I am not done. Not done learning and sorting and growing and telling my funny little heart that, sure, it’s okay to feel, but that’s not the end of the story. I am not done with trying to be courageous and vulnerable all at once; it’s a new act for me, I think, and I am not quite ready to take it on the road.

But I am practicing.

And there are real moments of joy throughout. And they aren’t what make me me, but I sure do like to feel them. Not build a house there, mind you, cause the moments are fleeting and then where would that leave my house once the moment leaves, I have to wonder.

But I don’t mind the spontaneous smiles these days.

Just like I try not to mind the spontaneous tears on other days.

And the yellow pants club was in session, too. Of course.

And Glen, our drummer, wore a suit. He looked really nice and dapper.
And so many kind people came out to listen…it was too much, in the very best way possible. My heart is full and overflowing because of the kind of too much it was.

And somebody asked me out on a date.
“I don’t date,” I said. “Like, anybody.”
“You don’t?” he asked.
“Definitely not strangers,” I said.

And see, he was a stranger. Or rather is. He is a stranger. When I recounted that to a friend of mine he seemed bewildered by that sentiment. “Well, who would you rather date?” he asked.

“A friend,” I said.

But that show was really quite a blast. Oh, and we got paid, too. It’s amazing how people sometimes give you money for doing things you love to do. Not that I am complaining. And not that I’ve seen a lot of that for some time, now, either.

And another band that played tonight was the LBG Project. “Wow,” I said to them after they had played and after I had told them how great they did. “So you guys are the Lesbian/Bisexual/Gay Project?” How conscientious and supportive, I thought.

“It stands for Landenberg,” one of the guys corrected me. “Uh. That’s where we’re from.”

Oh.
Right.