Yesterday I was lying on my couch, during naptime, reading this book I'm reviewing. The book, ironically, is about tracking down where this particular guy's stuff came from, so that he can see how much environmental and sociological damage comes from all the crap we accumulate. In the book, he's talking about a lot of third world people, and their work, and what they get paid for it. Some of these people make $1.50 in, like, a month. And they live in shanties and they eat rice and they are poor.
And then I looked up, at all the crap I have, and I don't even have what most people in our country would consider to be nice crap. I have been feeling a bit sorry for myself lately, what with my babies getting too big and my marriage ending and my oodles of debt. My couch is about 15 years old and my tv is not a flat screen and I don't own any stainless steel appliances. But I still have what I imagine the people in this book would consider to be a lot of- and nice- stuff.
Then I closed my eyes, and I drifted off. I woke up when it began to rain, and the wind picked up enough to blow that rainy smell into the living room. It was beautiful, and I felt lucky.
And so when I had gone to sleep, I was someone with a lot of crap, and when I woke up, I was someone who was unbelievably lucky, someone with everything. I love awakening metaphors, and this was my own, and it was a nice midsummer day, 6 months into this journey, that I had my own, and I am happy.