So at 5 a.m. when I'm skipping across the gym with my workout buddies, I can't help but laugh. Nobody is immune from the skipping portion of the workout. Young, old, men, women, it doesn't matter, if you are there, you are skipping. And I dare you to try and skip and not crack a smile.
Last weekend I took my son, Oscar to his friend's birthday party. He was very particular with his outfit that day. He wanted to wear sweatpants instead of the corduroy pants I had suggested because of his concern that if they played hide n seek his pants would indicate his location. He also spent a lot of time picking out a shirt he thought would be ninjalike. He could hardly contain himself when we arrived at the house and as soon as we arrived, he skipped all the way to the front door. Arms swinging, knees high, with a homemade birthday card in his hand and an enormous smile that took over his entire face. He is my son after all, and skipping is just happiness exiting our body so we don't burst.
He skips because his soul is happy and nobody has told him not to. And he skips everywhere.
But my other boys don't. My husband doesn't. My coworkers certainly don't. And somewhere along the way, I stopped too. If you think about it, it is a perfectly effective way to get from point A to point B. It is faster than walking, more fun than running, yet you never see adults skipping past you because they are late for a meeting. Walking fast with your eyes on your phone makes you look more important anyway. If you saw me skipping past you on the street you may assume I'm either intoxicated or a bit crazy. But why does that matter?
Why do I suffer from worrying about OPO (other people opinions)? Just last week my son, Jack said that some of his classmates told him he is weird because he enjoys different things than they do. I told him that being weird is a wonderful thing because it means you are unique and that you think freely instead of conforming to what other people think you should like. And truthfully in our family, he doesn't stand a chance of not being weird. He comes from a long line of weirdos.
Yet last week I really wanted to paint my fingernails black, but I didn't because I worried that people would think that I was too goth, or not professional or whatever. But seriously, who the hell actually cares what the checkout lady thinks of my nails? Me, apparently.
If I don't follow my own path of happiness, then whose path am I following? No other person can possibly know my deepest feelings, passions and desires more than me?
Yesterday, I caught myself saying, " I really wish I would have done (blank) when I was younger." I actually said that out loud while my mind was racing with creative thoughts. And before I could even finish my own sentence, my heart and brain skipped right past that thought and screamed: "Why can't you do it now?" Nothing speaks truer words than your heart. But the trick is you have to listen.
When I write, my body may not be skipping, but my soul is. My heart feels full. My body feels relaxed and my mind is calm. It is my personal happiness oasis.
My husband finds his happiness in building and fixing things, whether it is a pergola in our backyard or building curiosity in the minds of the children he teaches. His soul skips in those moments. Mine would fall flat on its face.
I need more skipping in my life.
For the past week, I have been introspective while observing the messiness and weight of everyday life. How my interactions with certain people make me feel. Or how simple things can spin me into a tailspin of emotion.
For example, my brother was in town and we were standing in my parent's kitchen. The same kitchen that both of us grew up in. I can't imagine all the times he and I have stood in that kitchen in our lives. My mom had made enough of Mama Gunn cookies to feed the neighborhood. They take an entire day to make. They are by far the best cookies on the face of this Earth and have some addictive ingredient that nobody really knows what it is. I can resist temptation in most any other circumstance except this. I am defenseless. And so was my brother.
We both stood there cutting off another piece of this cookie and a rush of every childhood emotion came over me. It was as if the taste brought me back to the excitement and joy of the holidays and it was absolutely transcendent. (Maybe I should really find out what is actually IN these cookies.)
For that moment, I just allowed myself to be completely content in the simple act of eating this cookie in the safest place I know with people that love me more than life itself. If I would have been able to pull myself away from those cookies, I would have skipped down the hall.
As I approach this holiday weekend, my goal is to embrace simple joy and happiness. And if I am able to do this openly without fear, my hope that it will spread. The photo above is from my son riding a penny mechanical horse in a public supermarket. He was laughing, talking in a cowboy voice and didn't care who saw him. Because he doesn't suffer from OPO he didn't feel the need to mute his fun. And a crazy thing happened. Everyone who was watching him couldn't help but share in his joy.
If skipping down the street is what makes you feel happy then do it with confidence. Or if reading a book, or volunteering, or hugging your best friends or watching a cheesy movie or singing at the top of your lungs, or wearing fleece lined Christmas leggings and obnoxious Christmas sweaters are what brings you joy then just do it without fear of what anybody else thinks.
I'm convinced that when you are doing something that makes your soul skip, then others souls will want to follow.
