A Point to Set For Ourselves

I'm sitting on my white sofa this morning and thinking about how we achieve happy solutions and balance in our lives. Can a sense of contentedness be a set point and does our spirit naturally seek it or do we have to always correct course to arrive there? I am content more than I am not. I do not need to work to achieve it. Or perhaps, I should redefine what I mean by work. Because the work I do rarely seems like work at all. I often tell people that I love to work in my garden. But, then, is that really work? Most of the time, I love to work at my job. It only becomes a tedious obligation when I have to interact with the kinds of people, there, who do seem to think their work is more a chore. When I am around these people, the proportionate sense of contentedness, compassion, enthusiasm and joy shifts and I feel hostility, anger, and mean pettiness. These feelings arrive like intruders and they sap my energy, slow my production and hinder my ability to sleep well. Lately, I have been sleeping well. And when I wake up in the morning, pour my coffee, settle into my white sofa and look out at the morning light in the trees, I am just simply content.

I have forgotten, now, the name of this hydrangea. I'll have to go and look it up in my notes. It is supposed to be a dwarf variety, but I think it's going to grow up beyond its breeder-prescribed size. It's unusual purple color is only more interesting when you play with the way light falls on it. Last weekend, my brother came over with his camera equipment and we both became engaged in trying to capture the reflective light on this hydrangea. I was holding a gold-fabric reflector beneath the plant, while Chip made photo after photo. Both of us silently adjusting our variables and working in tandem. Neither of us noticed the minutes we were spending there. It was a kind of balance and state of contentedness that comes naturally. We had achieved a set point, I think. The Putterer