Pockets of perfect peace
We all have them, at least once in a lifetime, hopefully more often, those moments when the stars align and good karma abounds and nothing has happened to ruffle our feathers.
I decided to call these moments POPP, Pockets of Perfect Peace.
My first POPP wrapped itself around me driving to work in La Plata one morning in 2006. Hard to explain, it was a warm bubbly feeling that started in my tummy and gurgled its way up and up and out through my mouth by which time I was warbling away. Out of tune most likely but who was there to hear. My body was tingling and vibrating and heavens forbid I got stopped for a burnt out brake light or something, how do you explain to some poor police officer your inability to sit still?
Jiggling with joy is hard to control, impossible in fact.
I was also scared to make any sudden movement in case I popped. A definite possibility when you are riding high on a POPP.
So how could I capture that moment to use again another time? I quickly ran through my life as it was at that moment, determined to catalog all physical and non-physical assets. I was doing what I loved. Teaching fitness in various ways. Aquatics, group fitness, personal training and my favorite, Pilates. Everywhere I worked was a pleasant environment. I had great mentors, I liked my bosses and co-workers.
Nobody was shooting at me because of my race, the color of my skin, the language I spoke or the faith I practiced. My family was healthy and happy. I had an adoring husband, a beautiful home, two dogs and a cat, a garden, great neighbors and good friends.
Life was perfect and I was bouncing through my days on a mental pogo stick. Yay!
Dawned the following morning and I set out, waiting for that POPP.
Nothing. As in squat.
Oh I was happy and contented but that bubble was absent. So I did the obvious, I ran through my catalog again.
I tried again.
And again and again and again….
Obviously the POPP was not mine to command at will. Bummer.
It would come at the most unexpected moments. I stopped trying to conjure it up and just enjoyed it when it happened.
Days, months, years passed and one evening, surfing TV channels, I tuned in on a lady called Joyce Meyer. Something snapped into place and for a while I made it a point of watching one of her daily broadcasts.
She has been the biggest single influence in this journey I am on.
She sat squarely on my right shoulder and would smack me on the head (think Gibbs and NCIS) but on the side, right above the ear, when I stepped out of line.
Gossip? Smack, smack.
Snarky comments on Facebook (oh, that was a biggie) about what I saw in Walmart?
Smaaaaaaaacckkkk!!! Biff, biff. biff……
I could write a book! Especially the critical mindset I had on what people looked like. Not only a trilogy of smacks but a clear voice in that right ear –
“Who are you to judge?”
Ehhhhh – lesson after lesson after lesson.
I don’t get many opportunities to watch her when we are boating. And I haven’t had many smacks lately so I must be getting better.
And as I, by grace, have the peace that passes all understanding, those mountain top highs or POPP’s are few and far between.
But always welcome, like that last favorite chocolate in the box or that first cup of coffee in the morning. That unexpected hug, an encouraging comment on Facebook or my HUG page, a phone call, a smile.
Here’s wishing you many POPP’s on your journey.