I am unmoored easily--drifting off into melancholy waters almost effortlessly.  Mired in the sticks. I am improving, though, in extricating my vessel and rowing away from those dim shores.  And that is accomplished so often by changing my mind. What am I emphasizing in my life: What's wrong? What's not been done?  The what ifs? I'd surely be happier if this or that was different.  If that person would just change their stupid ways.  I know better than to get stuck in this opaque sea.  I have the power to think differently.  And so I asked, "What's making me happy?"

I could almost feel the immediate change as I began rowing in a different direction.  At work I looked around the table during our weekly meeting. I noted the talented, kind, compassionate people that I have the privilege to collaborate with. I hear of a lot of people who despise their work.  I don't have that problem.  Most days I can say I enjoy getting up and going to work.

Then that afternoon, I drove over to the grocery store.  It is December, and I had my windows down, the sun and fresh wind pouring into the car.  I sang along to Christmas carols--the sky purely blue.  I drive a dependable car and have money in my pocket to buy plenty of food.

The next day I found myself at a favorite spot in my neighborhood--the tidal creek at the end of my street.  I walk with headphones listening to Pandora (usually the Steely Dan channel). It was twilight, almost dark, later than I usually walk. I looked up at the sky, streamers of lavender and turquoise mingling into the fading light.  A seagull glided silently by, its wings seemed to touch a cresent moon just beginning to glow.  I raised my arms in gladness and breathed deeply.

As I moved through the week, I stopped to appreciate a hedgerow of holly, the berries plump and red.  I inhaled the lucious scent of my three-year-old granddaughter as she sat peacefully in my lap munching raisins and telling me about her life.  She'd just danced to a ballet she had choreographed and entitled "A Different Girl."  

I'd done the same thing--pointed my vessel toward different waters.  I have a choice each day--stay unmoored in an ocean of shadows, or pick up my oars and row toward the light.