So. Lately I've been a little, shall we say... ruffled?

But prior to this recent (and current) period of ruffledness, I had maintained a pretty long period of general contentedness. Really, the longest run of contentedness I think I've experienced in my adult (fine, semi-adult) life.

Anyway, now that run is over. I'm shifting and itching and shedding and growing and changing, new things are happening. Sometimes I get this way; I think it's because I'm alive.

Okay, though, so the point is, I'm okay with this restlessness- it's an important part of me.

But here's what's bothering me.

I wrote an email to one of dearest most wonderful friends the other day that did a rather excellent job of capturing and expressing my current itchiness.

Her response was sweet and lovely and honest and kind, but there was something in it that I can't stop thinking about.

She wrote back that she appreciated the email, etc., and then commented that my correspondence with her in the past year has been filled with "lots of flowery statements about how much you loved life and new york and all the rest of it- quite possibly true, but i dont really know anything about you and your life anymore."

I'm not sure exactly what emotion it is that this strikes in me- I think real emotions are often kind of a unique blend that defy our efforts to try to label them- but it has undertones of irritation but also amusement, definitely some confusion and frustration...

First of all, I might mention that I have NEVER said I loved New York. I am a very honest person, and I have maintained, since moving here, that although I do very much love parts of my life here, I would love to pick up those parts and transport them to another location, because I find the city itself to be very difficult.

But that's not the real point either. The point is that much of my life in the past year HAS been flowery and lovely. And it's not an accident that it was that way. I made decisions about what I wanted to do and I worked hard to set up a life that would enable me to do it; moreover, I have recognized that there is good and bad all around, and that I can make a choice to see and appreciate the good and do my best to further it in my own simple and smiling way.

This does not mean I have shut out the bad- on a personal level, I am far from my family and I spend more time indoors in an office than I would prefer to; on a local level, there is poverty and worse, a lack of self respect, on display througout a lot of my neighborhood; on a national level, my country is being run by men I have massive disrespect for; on an international level, there is a hideous war where children and families are being blown to pieces every day- not to mention an endless other array of ugly things, but let's pick one for now- which brings me back to ugliness on a national level, where the country in which I reside is largely responsible for this bloody and disgusting chaos, and then to a personal level, where two of the most wonderful people I know are stuck in the middle of it...

I have not forgotten all that is not flowery, believe me. But I have made a choice to also see that which is, and to make a conscious effort to exude that in myself, because I believe that what I choose to exude has an impact on the rest of it. If I choose to see and focus upon that which is flowery in my life, I am capable of offering to my neighbor a genuine smile, and to the world, a genuine spirit. Sometimes there are things that upset us and there are times when we feel pain, and that's okay, and that's also life- but I think it's worth recognizing that the times when we can offer the most to the world are when we are at our best and most flowery. Think of the power a single, truly happy child has to evoke happiness in those around him. Is there not something about that state which we ought to strive for?

I could worry and I could cry and be angry and I could be cynical and I could let it all wear me down. I could try not to be so happy and bouncy so I wouldn't seem, you know, too perky. Or I can be "flowery," because I have a pretty damn good life.

A flowery life is less interesting, I know. As proof, just read the headlines- consider our appetite for all that is scandalous. We're gluttons for the unflowery. We want the dirt.

I think there's enough dirt without my tossing in any extra handfuls. I want to be the beautiful thing that stands out in the pile of dirt. And maybe the wind will blow, and some of my seeds will scatter and some more beautiful things will grow. And the dirt will always be there- hell, to take the analogy to its extreme, we need the dirt; it's the dirt from which we rise.

La, la, la. I know this is not exactly what my friend meant. I recognize that. But it's something to think about, and I've thought.

I'm restless right now, and not my prettiest and floweriest self. But I can't wait to get back to that pretty, simple center. And when I get there, I can guarantee I'll probably write some more boring, flowery emails about how much I love the life I've chosen to live.

There is a list I made while sitting up in a tree on my college campus one time. It is titled 'Things that Make Me Happy:' and it is a long list, filled with things like dancing barefoot around the house on sunday mornings, fresh brightly colored produce, acoustic guitars, children smiling, and of course, flowers. Interestingly, I was inspired to make this list the day after spending a particularly flowery morning with my friend, in which she talked me into getting into the ocean for the first time in years and then we had a wonderful and mindful and simple and beautiful lunch...

I love my friend, and I think that many times she herself is one of the more beautiful flowers out there.

But I want her to recognize that a simple little flowery life, although it may be different than what she would choose, is still a life.