Love Eyes

            I’m looking to feel better more of the time.  I could go running around coordinating stuff and doing stuff and buying stuff, maybe sell my house and buy a new house somewhere different, or get new shoes, or a new job, or go on a juice cleanse, or I could breathe in and out, listen to the tiny voice inside and allow myself to open to the goodness, the excitement, that is already here. 

            I could relax my shoulders, my stomach, and my face, over and over again.  I could receive compliments, and really let them stick.  I could look at my five-year-old son with love eyes instead of wondering whether his bangs would look better with product or cut shorter.  I could look at our living room, blanketed with pillow forts, stuffed animals, and fire engines, and think “Yes. This is a really fun place to live,” rather than mentally comparing it to a Restoration Hardware catalog scene and finding it lacking.  Sorely lacking. 

            I could a) stop beating myself with that mental stick I use on the whole world and everyone in it and, b) put the love eyes on and gaze upon others and myself with them, and c) relax into life being more enjoyable, more wonderful, than it has been ever before.  I could enjoy what there is to be enjoyed, for realsies, and stick the landing.  It’s time.