The other evening, snow fell gently as I sat reading in front of our evening fire. My husband had gone to bed, but I savored the sound of silence, save for the crackle of the logs -- utterly content.
Content. Wow. Not striving, not planning or making notes, not wishing I'd done something differently, not envisioning a scene for my next book or blog, not unhappy or worried or stressed.
When I think about my journey to contentment I am grateful for dogged determination; that reasons for unequivocal forward motion existed; for guiding lights with helping hands and hearts; but mostly that I love and am loved.
Statistically, the odds of my finding, health and happiness, let alone contentment, were low. The Center for Disease Control (CDC) and Kaiser Permanente conducted a study called "Adverse Childhood Experience Study" or ACES. Ten types of childhood trauma were evaluated.
[For more of this story, written by Laura Landgraf, go to http://www.huffingtonpost.com/...sity-_b_8962390.html]
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