As I write this blog entry I am high on life, pumped with electric adrenaline and refusing to feel the pain. Of anything. Through no particular effort on my part the day began with a rare mind set even for me, the optimist, that was already in working order before I woke and enabled me involuntarily to feel exhilarated by nothing more than the air I was breathing. The day seemed brimming with potential. My unspoken plan was to ride the wave as long as it lasted.

I could not believe what a fine snack a triscuit can be, first thing in the morning. It has fiber, wheat, potassium and great flavor. I chose the kind with olive oil and dill. I ate six, but could have eaten the entire box. Add hot tea and you have a mini-breakfast.

Sitting down at my PC, I saw the video of the dolphin off the Kona coast who approached the divers seeking help in rescuing him from the fishing line tangled around one fin and attached to a hook in his mouth. Quite a stunning example of cooperation between two species who speak different languages and are eons apart in lifestyle and life purpose, yet manage to understand eachother enough to accomplish a basic rescue, born of communication and kindness, that most probably saved a life.

I did some errands, stopped at the grocery, and in the olive aisle while searching for my favorite in the red can, was asked by the adorable little barely two year old boy toddler in the cart next to me, “May I help you?” as he grinned from ear to ear. His Mom looked over at me and gave me a proud look that said, without words, “He does this all the time….”

Later I heard from one of my art students who was proud to say that she was working on a collage to  enter into our class competition with the possibility of being chosen to exhibit in the public showcase of fine art in the community lodge. Very satisfying news to hear. Student of mine. Talented. Never took art before in her life.

The day was punctuated with fun when a dozen or so of my favorite people arrived for a Happy Hour and Pot Luck dinner. It was a small enough group that we could all have a common conversation and everyone contributed interesting stories told with humor and honesty. It was a rare and wonderful evening.

It was not too long ago when I might have perceived all this joi de vivre as the prelude to some inevitable catastrophic episode, by the law of my averages. Not Murphy’s Law but my own. I would have been glancing over my shoulder to see what was creeping up on me. I was in a dark place for several years and experience had etched that theory into my consciousness. I had learned not to be too ebullient because it is built on a house of cards and something wicked this way comes. Pattern born of personal experience is a harsh teacher and you don’t forget the lessons she brings. Except that I have…finally and permenantly…blocked that way of thinking. It took a while, the process of erasing years of unhappiness that had polluted my creativity and left me only part of who I used to be. But gradually and subtely I was transformed back to who I really am – and I began seeing myself again for the first time –  happy to be happy. High on life.

So you might be wondering, what is the recipe for that transformation? The transformation that resurrects your creativity, demolishing the writer’s block or the artistic boredom, or is even able to thwart sad dullness from coloring your days. I am in no way attempting to provide a quite unprofessional cure for serious depression here, but rather a way to look at life in a different way that dwells in the light rather than the gray. In my opinion it involves seeing everything again for the first time. Notice the details. Watch people, listen to conversations, understand the language of bodies, ask yourself questions constantly – what color would you call that? What are you going to have for lunch today? Are you going to visit a friend? When is your next walk? How many cookies will you allow yourself to eat? Keep the colors of your life warm and lively.

Make each day a composition and fill it with the rewards of living. Take care of yourself and make sure there is something to look forward to when you open your eyes in the morning. Dwell in the positivity within yourself, because you owe that to yourself, and over the long haul a positive attitude actually does out wit, out play and out last (a nod to SURVIVOR) the negative. Yes much of the world is a mess, but in your world you have the responsibility and the power to practice peace and joy and to be as creative with what you’ve been given as you can. Your humble efforts will spread out beyond your private world and contribute to the greater good. Life is a trip and it does barrel along. Buckle up and get on board! Make sure you sit where you can  see the view. There is so much out there!

I used to hang a row of time-zone clocks on the wall in my studio, each labeled with a  location on the planet where I had friends or family that I cared enough about to keep track of. It is a habit I began years ago when I had Yemen to deal with, then Nepal, then London and the Arctic Circle and  the South China Seas…it got out of hand a couple times but I kept it going. I moved once or twice and rehung the clocks each time. Singapore showed up out of the clear blue sky one month….  Hawaii, Sweden, Cape Town, Madagascar and then Peru (which had to be up there all the time since it kept repeating itself), Guatamala, Panama, New Zealand, Poland, Buenos Aires  – just some of the changing places on the wall. But I had to shut down my global tracking operations. I ran out of space and removed them all when it became too long a row to devote to just clocks. Visitors were starting to look at me funny. But really it was a display that outlived its usefulness since I can check all the time zones I need to check on my IPhone now. Why do I need to check times, you ask? Are you a mother, a friend, a significant other? Do you have a pulse? So that I’ll know when I can be expecting a call or when I can safely make a call and not disturb sleep. And I wanted to see the times because in some odd way it made me feel closer to the people. Of course most people come and go and travel here and there but this core group of special people I am close with live, work and play in exotic locales on a regular basis. It has been a steady phenomenon in my adult life for so long now, to have my most important peeps in faraway places, that it has become my “norm.” It has become part of my own lifestyle as well as theirs. When they come home, they really COME HOME – it’s not like they just arrive back home from a state or two away, yawning hellos to me as they come shuffling in the door – the word HOME has weight to it when you are seldom there and you can compare it to primitive locations where you have missed it. It is a place you dream about when the heat of where you are is so oppressive you can’t breathe and it is a place safe from wild chimpanzees and elephants. I travel some too, but these crazy-good fun people in my personal tribe have taken the concept of traveling to new heights. They go to some extraordinary places! When they walk through my door there are bear hugs and kisses and shrieks of delight to finally see eachother again.

There is much to be gained from these travels – I lap up the stories and I view the pictures and I learn from each person’s experiences. Sometimes I follow them to their next targeted area, if it is a trip I would find fascinatng.  Some of those  who are dearest to me actually live permanently in exotic places, enjoying careers that enable them to happily live abroad, and I mean really abroad. If a location requires a full 24 hours for travel home for the holidays, that is a far piece abroad in my book. As a mother, I have developed a fine selection of coping mechanisms for times when I know that a trip is approaching for one of my core people that involves great risk. I have learned how to sustain optimism, have faith and deny any middle-of-the-night terrors from taking hold of me for months at a time when cell phone service is impossible because for instance a loved one might be trekking with some guides and few yaks around the base of Everest. I am practiced at these coping habits; usually they work. They have to work, because my sanity is at stake. One person in particular who is in oil exploration criss-crosses the globe, leaping across time zones and oceans, accepting work that often involves great danger in politically unstable regions or areas where animals will gnaw on you. When my phone rings, and it’s a special satelite phone code showing up on caller ID, I hang onto the nearest immovable object and brace myself, as I hear “Hi! It’s me! Don’t worry  – I am OK – but you won’t believe what happened on this trip…it was much more hairy than Gabon when I was almost trampled by those elephants. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.” That’s a good call to get – it proves he is safe and able to make phone calls.

I can receive a text message from Singapore in the same few seconds I receive one from two streets away. I heard from my son in Madagascar as he stood out in a remote field near a watering hole where he pitched his tent. My friend Chris called me from the bush of Kruger Park in South Africa so that I could hear the roar of the lions at night.

Some nights when I forget to turn off my cell phone I hear, across the distance from my bed to the dresser in my bedroom, a series of pings and bongs lasting until morning, representing all these travelers checking in by email or text message, and I actually sleep very well. It is reassuring that we are in touch. The world is our backyard here in the 21st century, and we are enjoying the greatest time possible for communication. How did we get so lucky to have those two situations at the same time?