Miss the Bliss

I lay on our bed last night, listening to the water run in the shower while my daughter allegedly washed herself.  The evening sun grew stronger through the branches of the tree across the street and I desperately searched for a sign in it.  Such a wrenching in my heart for the loss of self.  Have I really gone so far backward that I can’t find my way forward?  How does a person lose faith in oneself?  What is there to cling to when you have given up the light?  Some people have Jesus, some people have God, some kind of figure to hang their hat on.  But what do you do if the figure is yourself and somehow, some way, you’ve misplaced it and trying to find it seems an impossible task?  You think, well, when this gets sorted out I’ll feel better and that will help.  I’ll feel happier and so rediscovering it will be much easier.  But you know that true happiness doesn’t lie in a signed lease or a full pantry.  It comes from within.  You have known that.  You have felt it.  You have felt the overwhelming gratitude; the joy which overflows from your heart that you shine on everyone you meet.  You have known bliss.

I miss my bliss.  I wept for my bliss watching the sun.  I took two pictures because the loudest voice in my head said I should use one for this entry today.  But I knew I wanted to capture the moment somehow, keep it locked so that perhaps one day soon, I could reopen it and find what I was looking for.

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