When you look at the sky do you see blue? Do you see tears? Do you see the bottom of a deep blue plate? How we perceive things determines our mood. To a greater or lesser extent—as they say.
If you look up at the sky. And it’s blue. And it’s sunny. And birds are singing and winging. Are you happy? Joyful? Grateful? Or are you thinking about your electric bill? Picking up the kids? That sore foot that won’t stop hurting? The shitty score on your college test?
What you focus on, you expand. That’s what they also say. Who’s they? Who cares? If all you see is a beautiful wide blue sky (which is all there really is when you look up—there’s no foot, kids or an electric bill—and there’s definitely no test score) then you might feel damn good. You’ve got 2 eyes, hopefully; a nose with nostrils big enough to inhale fresh air; and a brain hopefully developed enough to understand that the sky is a damn fine, marvelous thing. A wonder to behold.
It's so big and wide and blue. It’s got unlimited space and potential.
Where does the sky go? Where does it lead to? Some say space. It gets darker the higher or further you go. It turns from blue to black. That’s called deep space. Your mood can turn from blue to black in an instant, too—the deeper you get into your problems and fears and worries and concerns.
Now this isn’t about being in a concrete, shitty situation. One in which you have to be prepared to not feel open, expansive and happy. Times when real shit is going down. Danger. Harm. You know, those shitty things that happen sometimes—hopefully not that often.
We’re talking about a blank slate day. You wake up, there’s nothing wrong or right yet (unless the coffee’s not made; then you have a problem).
A day like a deep blue canvas.
What are you going to write in the sky of your unlimited potential day?
Are you going to say, “I hate waking up. I have to go to work today.” “I feel shitty. I thought I’d win the lottery last night.” “Why did I oversleep? I’m such a lazy idiot…”
What words are spinning through your brain and painting themselves on the beautiful blue canvas of your unlimited potential day?
Fear not. There is another way. (There’s always 2 or 20 ways to do things. It’s like a frozen yogurt shop. So many flavors…)
You can stop. Breathe. Listen.
Listen to what you’re telling yourself.
Listen to what you’re writing on your blue sky blank canvas day.
Listen to how you “conversate” with yourself.
(When did the word “conversate” jump into the dictionary?)
After many years of writing the same shit on my blue sky days, I’ve become a master bitcher. An expert complainer. An ungrateful fool.
I can always find something to be upset about.
I can always find something to be angry about.
I can always find something to be afraid of. Or worried about.
That’s one part of me.
I have another part. This part of me is happy to the core.
It loves to learn.
It loves to do things. Play music. Draw. Sing. Laugh. Read. Plan, learn, do.
It loves appreciating greatness in others.
It loves beholding the amazing, magical creations of life—whether “natural” or from human beings.
(Or even my cat, who is a wonder to behold…)
It loves leaping into the wide blue sky of appreciation and discovery.
There’s so much to appreciate in this life. And so many creations from our fellow humans to enjoy and be inspired by.
And it’s always there. This other, happy side of me. This deep well of contentment.
I’ll call it my “Blue Sky Guy.”
It hangs around in the shadows sometimes. It lets the bitchy side take center stage.
But I’m tired of the bitchy side.
Tired of complaining.
Tired of finding the wrong in the wide blue sky.
There’s nothing wrong.
It’s all just unfolding.
I will plant my two big feet (or size 8.5, which ain’t so big) on the solid ground of my contentment.
I will claim that happy, contented, joyful, fun side.
I’ll let my Blue Sky Guy take center stage.
And let it rock my world.
More and more.
He’s going to get more stage time now.
As I stare up into the wide blue sky of my life…