Goodness

I’ve been so grateful, these past few days, for the funny people in my life.

From out-of-nowhere comments on Facebook to houseguests and old friends telling stories that have me doubled over, laughing so hard I can barely breathe, the past few days have been filled with mirth and joy.

Everything feels a little lighter, a little more relaxed. I’ve been motivated to make plans, to commit.

I just had a wonderful conversation with two friends for whom I have bucketsful of respect. We were talking about the pursuit of happiness, about how it’s so easy to say, “I’d be happier if I was doing this,” or “I’d be happier if that would happen,” but not only is that unproductive, it’s also erroneous, because you are what you are no matter where you are or what you’re doing. Your matter and being remain the same…for example, even if someone called me tomorrow and said, “Katie, I’ll pay you a billion dollars just to write a self-indulgent blog and slap together crooked a-line skirts out of cute fabric for the rest of your life,” I’d eventually return to being slightly discontent, a little bit uneasy, and curious about what else is out there.

After years of travelling to new places and trying new things to quell those feelings, I know they’re not going to go away.

There is no one thing I need to find; there is no single purpose. There is only finding peace in what’s happening now, being as content as possible with the given situation, with my own skin. Accepting what is and finding joy there instead of waiting for it, looking for it, expecting it to come to me.

Today is Jonny Copp’s birthday—Jonny who died in June. He’d have been 36, and even though I only saw him about once a year for the last 5 or so, each reunion was supercharged, those crazy eyes and medicinal energy overtaking any sadness or restraint in the room.

The people in my life—now and in the past—don’t wait for inspiration to push them out of bed. They find it themselves, on sandstone towers and granite ledges and snowy ridges leading to north-facing powder shots. And the whole time they’re laughing, enjoying the company and movement and laying down the plot of stories that will be retold—bigger and bigger—for years to come.

I'm grateful to bask in their energy, and, sometimes, to share it.