. . . at the edge or anywhere else for me lately.

One of my life goals is to “dance at the edge” of my life. (I mean . . . that’s even the name of my blog.) Because I’m looking to savor all of my life for the rest of my life. But lately. . . well. That savoring, that dancing has . . .  kinda been missing.

I’m definitely not doing enough dancing.

After the election last November, I knew it was going to be a tough go. I knew I needed to do everything I could to protect my peace, to build a “bubble” around my world so I could keep going and . . . well. So I could keep dancing.

It’s been harder than I expected, actually.
For me, at least.

In the beginning of All This, even before the inauguration, when the daily outrages began (more outrageous than ever before), I kept hearing/reading all the messages and warnings that about how “THEY want you to lose your hope” and “THEY want to steal your joy,” etc. And back in January, I truly believed that . . . “THEY” couldn’t steal mine. That I was stronger than that! That I could withstand the onslaught.

But . . . I think I’m not doing it.
Or I’m not doing it . . . enough.
Because I am NOT dancing here.

I know that any kind of “glimmer” of hope from the outside, news-ish world would help boost my spirits – some piece of hopeful news or some sign of life from . . . well, from ANY kind of organized resistance. But I have come to realize that THAT isn’t happening (or at least any time soon), and if I’m going to get myself out of my current funk-state, I’m going to have to figure out something FOR MYSELF.

But my goodness. It is so hard to figure something out for yourself and find your joy again when you’re feeling so mired in the shit that’s everywhere around you. Sigh.

And that’s where I’ve been lately.
Trying to find my joy again.
Knowing that I need to start dancing. Even though I haven’t been feeling much like doing that lately.

And then, last week, this guy popped up in my Instagram feed with a powerful message that ended up being EXACTLY what I needed to hear.

I ended up watching it over and over. I transcribed the words for myself . . .

I’m not whimsical for fun.
I’m whimsical as a revolutionary act.
I’m whimsical to defy normality and established ideology.
There are strange men in shiny suits with egregious amounts of Federal Reserve notes who are banking on me to be discouraged, on you to be discouraged.
They want your whimsy to dwindle away.
They don’t want you to be polarizing.
They want you to be palatable.
Docile.

But whimsy will free you.
Whimsy . . . is how you fight back.
YOUR JOY IS A WEAPON.
Do you hear me?
YOUR JOY IS A SWORD.
YOUR JOY IS A DAGGER AND A SHIELD.

GET WHIMSICAL!
     — @adminearth on Instagram

I wrote these words out in my journal.
I wrote them on a sticky note.
“Get whimsical” is my newest mantra.
And every time I find myself in my personal bad vibes vortex, I remind myself (often out loud) YOUR JOY IS A SWORD.

I’m still not dancing ENOUGH. But I’ve started to dance again.
And that’s a good start.

Onward.

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(I took the photos in this post at a nature preserve  near our house. Tom and I took JoJo for a little “sniffy walk” there yesterday. It’s nice to have a little piece of nature . . . right in the middle of Kalamazoo. Even if there are a lot of mosquitoes . . . )