~a column by Colleen O’Brien
Listening to a radio interview of a quartet of planetary scientists from NASA, the European Space Agency and the Canadian Space Agency, I learn that a new space telescope, the James Webb Space Telescope, will be sent off to outer space on December 24. It will allow investigation of astrology and the cosmos, and objects in the universe, the return data getting back to us in 10 seconds.
I hear one of the scientists say, “What a great time to be alive!”
I stop in my tracks.
My crabbiness in recovering from a breakthrough bout of COVID combined with the general dystopian arc of world politics have stolen that fabulous line – what a great time to be alive – hiding deep in my Scrooge heart.
But I am suddenly filled with joy from a long-ago happenstance – during the Vietnam War, no less, where my husband was deployed, I found myself on a hill by a city library exploding with joy because the sun was out, and I was alive. That instant has sustained me many a time, and my recall this morning of that attitude, point of view, way of living, all those positive behaviors, are choices, no matter my circumstances. The remembrance of the idea fills me right to the brim with joy. Honestly, joy.
I search out the wrapping paper and the Elmer’s glue and get busy being a Kindergartner. I loop together endless circles of shiny red and green paper and hang the Christmassy decoration across a window. It is slightly crooked and I leave it like that. I am fully employed by the pure childish joy of making beauty.
My too-long decline down the slippery slope toward the bad, sad side of human beings, perhaps even proud of my arch responses to liars, imposters, shit stirrers and deniers of joy taking over the world has got to go. I don’t have time left to wallow.
Because of the serendipity of catching four female scientists thrilled with a new telescope that may tell us how the universes started and maybe even if there is life “out there,” I think I might have been set free from my self-indulgent human gloom. That part of my viewpoint of the world taken over by negative news – the old newspaper adage being “If it bleeds, it leads” – [How much more cynical was I going to get?] just has to crumple up and disappear. It is not worth visiting, only worth fleeing from.
This doesn’t mean that I won’t speak up against ideas and behaviors I feel are destructive to us and our planet. It does mean that now my wrinkles will be etched by smiles rather than fear and loathing.
Love. Joy. Goodness. Gladness. Exhilaration of spirit – all manifestations of what the mind can do with delight. I’ll be working on that, not the wormy elements of my mind that burrows into despair. Can’t go there.
Goodwill. Celebrate it.
