Where's the Bliss Now?

I woke up early this morning to a soft chill in the air and pulled up the spare blanket at the foot of the bed. The cool of early autumn makes me want to linger in bed dreaming. But there were appointments to keep and an old cat needing to be fed so I reluctantly left the cozy nest I’d made and set foot into the day. 

I just turned 75. That seems so old, yet inside me is a teenage girl ready to laugh and dance. Even while my body hurts and slows me down there is still bliss arising in the chill air. When my father was 75 he denied his age . He didn’t want to be associated with “old people” but, as time went on, he mellowed a bit. One day, when he was living in my home towards the end of his life, we  took a trip to the local CVS drug store. He needed a single edge razor and, since most of them apparently are double, we were on a hunt. Walking down the aisles arm in arm, oohing and aahing at the most mundane items, we came upon a stone on the ground sitting in the garden section. On the stone, or rather molded concrete, the words, “Heaven on Earth” were written. The two of us just stood there like idiots looking at this mundane piece of concrete with its awkward lettering, marvelling at its wisdom. We had found bliss in the most banal of places.

While my dad was dying in my home, whenever things felt heavy or painful, one of us would catch it and say, “Where’s the bliss now?” This was not said with the implication that there was no bliss to begin with because, see, it's not here now. It was said as a sort of koan and a reminder to find the bliss in the middle of the pain. We’d both stop whatever we were doing and remember something we loved about the moment, maybe it was that we were together, maybe that we had a home and medicine, maybe it was the sun coming through the window.  I really don’t know how my father came to turn this into, what is essentially, a practice. But these 4 words helped us navigate the treacherous waters of dying and family dysfunction, and believe me there was plenty of family dysfunction swirling around. 

Where is the bliss now?  This practice is a challenge to release the cudgel of pain and victimhood we identify as who we are and float free in the moment. Where is the bliss now? Amidst the hatred and fear being purposely stirred up, the cruelty of people with power and unbridled greed, where is the bliss? Defiant, not ever wanting someone else to dictate my state of mind, I am compelled to find a state of love, generosity and bliss when others tell me to be afraid. I refuse to play the game by their rules or give them the last precious years of my life. Today, for me, the bliss is in the sight of geese heading south and the chill of the morning air, the urge to stay in bed and the compelling pull to start the day.