Sunday, February 23, 2014

A Truck Called Happiness

Last night I had a dream that kept going and going and going . .

I had a boyfriend named Gary (wtf?).  He let me use his vintage yellow pickup truck to pickup kids from school or whatever.  I parked the truck on a street and hoofed it from there to wherever I was going.  I came back and couldn't find the truck.  Thus began my search.

I found Danielle and a bunch of family having fun camping.  There were tents and campfire and fun everywhere.  I told her I was looking for Gary's truck and she told me to be quiet because the baby was sleeping.  I found the keys lying in a stack of clothes.  Yay!  Still, though, no truck.

I ended up driving on a crazy obstacle course with gardens and waterfalls and all sorts of nature things and was so concentrated on getting through the course so that I could go look for the truck.  The people in the car with me were yelling at me to slow down and be careful.  I even was on a downhill road and hit 95 mph (yeah, that's fast for me).  I was determined to finish this task so that I could get back to finding the truck.

Then I ended up at a massive outdoor party on a big ranch that Mary Wolf was throwing.  I was so frustrated with getting through all the people that were asking me to stop and visit awhile.  I needed to find that damn truck!  Mary even came out with some targets and guns and was excited that there was going to be target shooting.  She said, "Come on, Jody, it's going to be loud and fun!!"  Nope.  I wasn't going to stay.  I needed to find the truck.

At one point I was in my 64 Plymouth Fury that I owned when I was 16 years old (yep, bought that baby for $350 back then!).  I was just pissed off because the car would barely run and I wanted to get where I had to get quickly.  Then, Skip was sitting in the passenger seat of another car with me and telling me to drive more careful. I blew right through one of those gates that come down at like a toll bridge.  Nice. 

Guntzy (actually her name is Joanne Gunter) who died in 1998 was in my dream as well helping me find the truck.

So, I woke up this morning and was "wtf was THAT?"  While I was sitting in meditation it became pretty clear to me. . . .

I rush and rush and rush through my whole life looking for happiness (the yellow truck, duh).  I never stop to really enjoy where I am and what I'm doing.  Happiness is not a thing or a place.  Happiness is the moment.  Enjoying a pretty righteous cup of coffee or an amazing glass of wine or a playful moment with your grandchild. 

We have had our home on and off the market now for about four years.  We have had our "stuff" in storage for most of that time in order to stage the house.  All I've done is bitch and gripe for these years and be pissed off because we can't move on with our lives.  Honestly, I wish I could go back and enjoy the time I've had here.  I have a great house. 

Moving forward, I hope that I can remember to enjoy more moments to their fullest and just "be" where I am instead of consistently in search of the next best thing.  I read a goofy saying on Facebook awhile back and I think it applies to every aspect of life . . .

"Oh that I could weigh as much as I did the first time I thought I was fat."