I am a terrible rapper. I know this now for a fact because of the rap I tried to do tonight while walking my dog. I got out about 4 lines worth of material ending with, no mistakin for a hog! 

I also can’t beatbox worth shit.

Here’s the thing I forget when I have weeks like the last one: I can be tremendously silly. I can be wonderfully playful, and I can actually forget for periods of time that there is anything serious about life. It is not such a rare thing for me to laugh so hard I cry (or even pee my pants a little).

And I get off on laughter. I have one of those loud laughs that can probably be heard outside a busy restaurant I’m eating in. Laughing is one of my absolutely favorite things. I am fortunate that I get to do it often, and much of the time, at my own expense. I don’t always take it all so seriously. I don’t always take myself so seriously.

I forget so easily these wonderful parts of myself. I reduce myself to only the things I think need changing. My truth gets very narrow. Then suddenly, for no easily discernible reason, I’m walking down the street rapping terribly to my dog and I feel it. Joy. And it’s not life making me joyful or even my dog. The joy is coming from me.

I am all these things. I am a ridiculous number of things. Only some of them are dark. Just as only some of them are light.