There are, in my life, moments that defy expectation and belief. Extended moments of incomparable, inexplicable peace and wonder, in which I feel myself a tiny, delighted cog in the great machinery of the universe. Today gave me several of those moments.

The color of new leaves. The alchemy of breeze and sunlight. The feeling of the sun’s radiation on skin. The sweet bite of coffee. The knowledge that there are dear friends out there who love me as much as I love them. The gratitude that I have, in this moment, absolutely everything I could want, everything I might need.

My parents gave me this, in the riverside home that sustains me. My friends do, in their constant, enduring presence. Indifferent Nature does, if I am willing to look and listen. The breathing trees and migrating birds do, fresh and unexpected in every moment. The daily delights of a quartet of crazy felines do, a playhouse of surprises. The kindness of people from whom I have no reason to expect such grace does, a constant surprise.

In these challenging emotional times, I find myself thinking about my aspirations, my expectations. After a hard ten-year relationship in which I fell to the depth of “I have no dreams left”, I have realized, two decades later, that the gift is me in all my flaws and complexities. And in exactly what I have.

We are raised to an expectation of joy. Fall short of it, and we feel we have failed ourselves—or so we’re taught to believe. But joy isn’t the destination on the ticket in our pockets; isn’t necessarily the natural order of things.

It doesn’t have to be.

Sometimes the miracle moments are the ones disguised as “normal”, the million variants of feeling in between the extremes.

That’s what today was. Closer to joy on the cosmic balance, but not yearningly so.

What is enough? If not joy, then happiness. If not happiness, then contentment. It’s a knowledge that, in all its limitations, is its own perfection. And that is perfection enough.