There are times when I move through the world with such a sense of delight and wonder, that no matter what I see, hear, or interact with, I am happy to be alive. These are the times I say hello to little birds, smile at the squirrels, and am moved to tears exchanging an earnest hello have a good day with a stranger. One might say this is confidence. I don’t think it is. Confidence, by definition, is a self-appreciation of one’s own abilities or qualities. During these times I am not so aware of myself as I am just flowing, meandering down the river of life, flowing around the protruding rocks, lapping up on the soft, malleable banks. 

When I am in this place, nothing can get me. I feel love and compassion for someone that’s angry or rude. I giggle at the shallow simplicity of someone’s judgment of me if it crosses my path. None of this is about me, this world.