A Feeling of Contentment
A feeling of contentment will well up in me. I take note of it because it’s unusual for me, being content. That soft feeling of, “I like this, right here, right now.” I want to stay in the moment, be happy there. It’s not my default setting.
I also take note because things aren’t going that well. I made the bad decision to descend the steps on the roof at night without turning on the light. Also to not tighten up my eyeglasses, so that when I looked down the steps, the glasses slid down my nose. I stepped into air. Down five concrete steps I went. That I only broke a small bone in my thumb and dinged my knee is a true miracle. I have a cast, which engenders a child’s reaction in me–cool!—but everyone else expresses frowny concern. Where I bought my new glasses (I may be foolish, but I’m not an idiot), the clerk told me he wanted to wrap me in bubblewrap.
Yet, inside this eddy of injury, disappointment, and humiliation, a feeling of contentment rises.
I could attribute this to a lot of things, including the fact that I do, in fact, love this space I’m in. A fountain splashes outside the bedroom window. Beyond the living room window, the sun sets on the Mississippi River in striations of red and orange. I love the rugs I laid down, the new bench my husband and I put together, cast and all. I like sitting on the sofa with a throw over my lap watching detective series far into the night. Contentment.
I also credit all the time in contemplation. Not that it has generated peace in me, but that it separates thoughts/feelings from no thoughts/feelings. It has led me to be more cognizant of what I’m thinking/feeling. So I’m aware when a feeling of contentment—such a quiet feeling, so easy to overlook—pads into my being and curls up by the fire of my soul.
When I experience a near-miss (and I consider this such, fracture and all), I always think it’s a lesson learned that will prevent a future, worse outcome. But, as they say, accidents happen, so who knows. In the meantime, I enjoy the feeling of contentment as it appears.
a contemplative practice, contemplation, feeling content, how to find peace
Emma
well geez, Ellen. What parts of your body have you left to injure in some way? But Thank God only a thumb bone and not a hip! Seems my foolish mind still thinks I’m 35, too! Our bodies remind us we are not, over and over. And I am content knowing your mattress is not on the floor.haha
Ellen Morris Prewitt
The cast tech asked me when was the last time I’d had a cast. I told her my 3rd year in college, so almost 50 years ago. She said, That’s a pretty good record. I did have to tell her I shattered my elbow in between these two events. 🙂 One thing I’ve learned from this is to use the stair rail, which I never do. Will now.
Marie A Bailey
Oof! That fall could have been so much worse, and I’m so glad it wasn’t (as are you, obviously 🙄). A near-miss like that can shift a person’s perspective: how quickly we realize the joy of small things, like watching detective shows late into the night. And it can heighten our appreciation of the big things, like a gorgeous sunset over a river. Your post gives me a sense of contentment, it is so evocative of what you are feeling. I hope we have more opportunities for those feelings soon 😉💙
Ellen Morris Prewitt
Yes, to the shift in perspective. I’m wondering if it’s not just that I’m noticing my contentment more, but whether it might be an emotion that is coming to me late in life. Whatever is going on, I’m happy for it. I’m glad the post recreated it for you.