clever little endorphins

They are the best drug.

It amazes me how the world can kick you so squarely in the guts that you think your spirit might never recover, but then it goes and spins you off in another direction to collide with something unexpected and brilliant: “Surprise!”

It’s a choice as to whether you’ll take it of course, and your parched eyes will still prick when you remember, but the offer is made for you to take what’s right there in front of you. Accept, and maybe you will find that you can raise your little damaged heart once more.

I was the work summer do last night. There was a Ceilidh. I can’t tell you how little I felt like being at a Ceilidh last night.

But then the band started to play and interfere with the grey clouds. I got harangued up to the dance floor by the caller to help him demo and before I know it I’m dancing and holding hands and … I think my friend Kath put it best (cue Facebook post): “An evening of insane #ceilidh dancing has rendered me giddy and frankly useless for the foreseeable. *faints*”

How can I not be uplifted by her  face (happy written all over it) as we linked hands under a two person arch and skip like over-excited children all the way back down the line. I’m spinning and laughing and as I look up at the ceiling I have this sudden overwhelming feeling of pain and joy all at the same time and I realise (epiphany) that nothing, however much it hurts me, will ever kill my zest for life and the fun it brings me.

There’s something about being a child and embracing the moment you’re in. You can continue down the helter-skelter of self-doubt and sadness and hang out at the bottom with your rejected miserable demons but there’s grass outside and – we’re not meant to – but how tempting is it to set down the pint of water and just do some handstands?! Kath tries out a cartwheel. Antony shows off his ‘walkie talkie’ (I think you may have had to have been a kid in the 80s, or from Yorkshire, to know what one of those is?!). So much fun! You can’t be sad when you’re doing a handstand.

When I get home, there’s a tiny delicate moth on my bathroom mirror, light reflecting back through its wings.  It’s as if someone very little and precious has come to say hello and: “Well done – I’m proud of you. Keep living life – that’s what you’re here for.” I notice how calm I feel.

This morning’s run kept those clever little endorphins flowing and brought more offerings..

A dandelion fairy: floats up and away from my jumping grasp at first but then sink down to my hands (telekinetic willpower?)

A woodpecker: I hear his gentle knocking first when I stop at the half way point telegraph pole. His bare tree looks like it might have been struck by lightning a little while back… Where are you?…where are you?… and then I see him, black and white striped wings on his back and a crown on his head. I’ve never seen a woodpecker before (grin). Just looked him up – think he was a lesser spotted woodpecker (the smallest and least common of the three who are resident in the UK. Bigger grin).

A corn field sky: laying flat backed, sunshine on skin, stalks (still) stuck in hair, watching clouds for a minute in blue blue sky.

A yellow mud-caked stone: brush off the earth and think… the world is mine and I am its. That’s enough.

Maybe life’s not about getting what you want (or even knowing what you want) but accepting the gifts it gives you, with the same spirit of generosity and grace with which they are given.

(ps. Dear NHS – for depression you should try prescribing Ceilidh’s once a month with all the people that person loves. Magic.)