The things we love act as solar panels: when we experience them, we take in light and heat. They make us shine, they warm us, and their main bi-product (unlike expensive oil or electric heat) is joy.
I’ve been thinking about the importance of doing what we love a lot more often. My friend Kathleen and I talk about our frequent trips to Ireland as a necessary replenishing of Vitamin-I, which if it were sold in pharmacies would say something like this:
Vitamin-I (Ireland) is necessary to complete enjoyment of life, to the senses of rhythm and proportion, and to the ability to understand and tell a good story. Some users report the following side-effect: a tendency to dance the jig on otherwise serious occasions.
For me, Vitamin-I works best in conjunction with Vitamin-G, or Vitamin Gaeilge (Irish language). Give me the land and the language together and I radiate health and well-being!
My friend Lauren – a brilliant songwriter and guitar Wizard – thrives when she gets a daily dose of her greatest inspiration: Beatles music. When she was just a wee girl of four years old, she saw them on the Ed Sullivan show and chose a life of music on the spot. Today, as a Berklee professor, a flourishing songwriter, producer, and recording engineer, that initial impression is still vital. Listening to her four lads brings her back into contact with that excitement and playfulness and possibility, qualities that certainly stand out in her own musical life.
It’s worth figuring out what things serve as your solar panels and then engaging with these light sources as often as you can. Here’s a few of mine:
Kayak-time
Friday found me gazing at 13 geese floating amid a patch of white and pink water-lilies, paddling into coves among the pickerel weed, and keeping a respectful distance from a great blue heron so that she’d stay put and let me look longer at her. I need these spells of long-looking and quiet wonder; they put me back in my skin when I lose myself.
Poem-time
Yesterday I found a “new” poet – well, new to me, anyway! He’s Li-Young Lee, and when I plucked his book off the shelf of our local Barnes & Nobles, I read a poem called “The Apple Elopes” which took my breath away. (The book, in case you’re interested, is called Behind My Eyes, a line that comes from the final amazing poem in the book). Last week, I found the absolutely gorgeous Barefoot Book of Classic Poems, illustrated exotically, thrillingly, and lavishly by UK artist Jackie Morris. Reading poems every day fills my tank with language and hope. I need that!
Walking-time
Cousin to kayak-time because of the long-looking and wonder, but it’s the action of walking I crave. Walking, you’re a poem in motion or a song being born. You’re a built-in rhythm-making, heart-ticking, deep-breathing, instrument. The wires that hook your mind to your heart to your body un-snake and re-connect in a peaceful braid. Certain problems cease to be problems as you walk. Everything looks brighter, more possible, more benevolent when you’ve taken a walk.
Art-time
I love to remember that I live in a world of creative, busy, hopeful people. Yesterday on a visit to the Fitchburg Art Museum, I saw an exhibit of paintings, sculpture, ceramics, jewelry, photographs, and paper-arts by artists who live within 25 miles of Fitchburg. So many beauties! I felt so proud of our area and so inspired to think of all this creativity going on all around me. But it doesn’t only have to be local to count in my book. The 19th century painting of a French woman counts, as does the African fertility mask, as does the English chocolate pot and cup. People using their imaginations and skills to make a more beautiful, more exciting world: yes!
Kitchen-time
When I’m stressed or out of whack, I tend to spend very little time in my kitchen. I catch something quick for a meal, and standing at the cutting-board holds little appeal. But I notice that when I’m in balance, when I’m happy, I relish the chance to wash & peel & cut up fresh stuff, to take my time simmering or inventing, and to soak up peaceful kitchen sunshine or moonshine, often with a lovely glass of wine in hand. And if the music is loud enough, it is simplicity itself to dance a little!
The great thing about these solar panels is that I can partake in them every day. They don’t cost much. They don’t have to take much time. A poem before breakfast? That’s a great investment. A quick kayak-run before supper? A brilliant foretaste of a happy evening to come. Some time at Dick’s Market admiring the colors of our local harvest and letting them inspire a new pizza? Delicious!
Let’s remember our pleasures, be loyal to them, and savor them daily. Here’s to unabashed and joyful reliance on all our solar panels!
