overlooking joy

I’m taking these private lessons, um, dance classes, aerobics. For working out. OK, fine, it’s pole dancing. And it is, in fact, I really great workout. My instructor throws in a lot of yoga along with the pole work. Helps with the flexibility. She’s always asking me if I feel the joy. I tell her she has an odd definition of joy as she’s contorting my hips into positions my hips didn’t know were possible.

I don’t know the meaning of life or what we’re all really supposed to be doing or if it’s better to enjoy the moments or plan for the future ¬†and since I don’t know any of those things, I do know I won’t ¬†overlook joy. The moments are like shiny beads of glass and I string them together on delicate strands. And I think, maybe it is as simple as this.

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