This little painted rock lies up against a metal post on the walking path near us here in Bozeman. Lest you get too idyllic an image, it is the post on which the bucket for dog poop hangs.
I love the phrase, “Let life surprise you.” Or I love the idea, anyway. The phrase is, of course, remarkably cheesy and a little cliché. But I love the idea, especially in a less common phrasing: “Stay for the surprises.” (I take the phrase from an interview with Jamie Tworkowski.) Because some of the best joys and happinesses in life are (perhaps by definition) unexpected, and therefore yet to come.
This is Sarah Lindsay’s poem “Small Moth“:
She’s slicing ripe white peaches
into the Tony the Tiger bowl
and dropping slivers for the dog
poised vibrating by her foot to stop their fall
when she spots it, camouflaged,
a glimmer and then full on—
happiness, plashing blunt soft wings
inside her as if it wants
to escape again.
Sometimes, even the daily — no, even the moment-to-moment fluctuations are enough to remind me when I am down or angry or whatever: wait a bit, stick around, let life — let joy or happiness or whatever you want to call it — surprise you. It always does.