We must interrogate the stories we tell ourselves so that we avoid embarrassing ourselves and hurting others. Though blaming someone else for our troubles is an easier path, it rarely solves the problem, and it keeps us stuck in a cycle of irresponsibility.
I told myself a story that wasn’t true based on my interpretation of what I read and my own personal lens. I deceived myself by believing what I wanted to believe.
The dogs haven’t learned that they will never, ever win in their desire to rid our yard, or our village, of squirrels. In their quest to alter reality, these dogs take after their adopted mother: me.
Rather than expecting everyone to view reality as we do, I’m wondering if we can be open, curious even, to asking questions in a sincere, nonjudgmental way about why someone holds particular opinions or interpretations of reality.
While I think there’s some overlap, delight to me seems to be a noticing of pleasures or what I find pleasing, whereas joy seems to be more of an emotional response that can transcend our situation or circumstances. While both are important, I want to focus on noticing on a granular level what I find pleasing in my very ordinary life.
