I think we all have feel-good moments throughout the day but rarely keep track. My feel-good moment about 20 minutes ago was while cutting up fresh vegetables - cauliflower, celery, carrots, and peppers. As I pared then sliced a carrot, I peered at the orangey orange at its heart and felt such a clutch in my own heart to see the color - to really see it.

It's times like that when I'm rooted in gigantic gratitude. My world doesn't seem quite so small as I peer into the simple miracle of a beautiful carrot.

*****


Last evening I posted the above thoughts on Facebook. I've so enjoyed the ensuing conversations and *likes*. The thing is... we all have these moments and I think we all acknowledge them - I just felt compelled to write about that particular moment because it was so powerful.

It's so easy for me to slip into unintended complacency. My home is so very, very quiet. I live alone and rarely even add music to the rhythm of my life. For days on end the primary sound I might hear is my oxygen concentrator pumping nourishment to my lungs. As my days unfurl, even this important manufactured sound becomes white noise... and then a little carrot awakens my heart.

Standing at my counter doing the ordinary became significant when I paused for an unexpected moment to really take inventory of all the beauty to be found in my life... even the now-famous carrots, which have since been gobbled up.


*****





The other evening I was on my front porch for reasons I can't recall. Evening had crept in as quietly as the life I lead. I caught this view of my office and had a moment similar to my *Carrot Moment*. There was something so infinitely pleasing about my office lit in a soft glow - much like the fireflies pulsing through the dark woods surrounding me. I spotted my cramped bookshelf - stacks of books on the floor escaped the camera lens. The wall above my desk is a freestyle bulletin board where I've randomly thumb-tacked inspiring words, precious photos, doctors' appointments, and so much more. On walls not caught in the moment is some of my favorite art. (Gah, what am I saying - all my art is my favorite!) Barely discernible is my recliner and a TV where I stream what I want to view. My boxy oxygen concentrator is hidden from sight - an omission that became an accomplice to my sense of well-being.

Through the muted tones illuminating my office, I puffed up with a smidgeon of pride... and comfort and gratitude. I swilled this cocktail of emotions and was intoxicated with the pleasure of the space I've created for myself - a space that is so uniquely me.

I love my life. Well, most the time, anyway.