Wow. It’s three in the morning, and Daddy is worn to a frazzle. (“Sometimes Marcus refers to himself as Daddy,” my mom recently explained my dad.) I’ve been dancing all day. My friend Matt and I worked this afternoon for about four hours (on three different dances), and tonight we went to an out-of-town dance where we cut a concrete rug with several friends to high-speed rockabilly music. Y’all, it was a blast, but I was sucking air. I guess I’m a little out of practice (and I HAVE been sick lately). Plus, this was at a bar where people were smoking. I’m not judging, but I’m sure that didn’t exactly help with the sucking-air thing. Anyway, it’s been a long day, but a good day.

Now somebody come tuck Daddy into bed.

Last night my parents and I went out to eat with my aunt, who drove in from Tulsa to visit. I honestly can’t remember the last time all four of us were together. Y’all, it was glorious (and the food was delicious). For at least a couple hours we caught up, laughed at each other’s jokes, and told stories about the past we’ve all heard a hundred times. At one point my aunt leaned back in her chair and said, “I am so comfortable right now. You don’t get that with everybody.”

I’ve been thinking about that today, that comfortable feeling thing. Last night Matt and I stayed at our friend Bonnie’s house, and I slept in until one this afternoon. (I’m pretty sure the bed in the guest room I was in was made by magic elves. Talk about comfortable! I may have drooled.) Anyway, Bonnie made “breakfast” for us and kept us full of snacks throughout the day as we worked on dance stuff. Periodically she’d pop into the dance room and dance with me to demonstrate or Matt so he could practice. And up until Matt and I left this evening, the three of us gabbed away, talking about dance events, life’s challenges, and anything funny we could think of. We did a lot–a lot–of laughing. At some point, just like my aunt did last night, I realized how comfortable I was, how good it felt to be around “my people.”

You know–people who get me, who really get me.

Recently I heard a spiritual entertainer of sorts say that he used to have a pretty big ego. Followers would come to him with praise or blame, and he’d take it all personally. He’d think, I‘m great or I’m shit or whatever. He said he finally got over this when he realized all those people were just looking for God or some deeper connection to themselves–it wasn’t about him at all. I’m still chewing on this idea, but I think he’s on to something.

Tonight I spent part of my time at the dance worrying about what others were thinking, but mostly simply enjoyed being there because I love dancing. Like spending time with “my people,” dancing is one of the things that almost always “feels right” and brings me joy. I think this is a good thing–having people, places, and activities that make our hearts sing. Still, the more I learn, the more I think it’s important to clarify–it’s actually impossible for another person or thing to “bring me joy.” Like, no one can put joy in a box and give it to me for Christmas. Rather, all my emotions and feelings come from inside me–they’re gifts I give to myself. At most, friends and favorite hobbies remind me that those gifts exist, like, Hey, you gonna open that or just let it sit there?

This is the deeper connection I think the spiritual entertainer was referring to, realizing that no one person or thing can give you something you don’t already have. So if I can feel comfortable around my family or friends, or if I can feel joyous at a dance, then I know I can feel comfortable or joyous–period. I’m not saying moods don’t come and go, but I am saying that all of them–all of them–are manufactured from the inside out, not the other way around. This means they’re not dependent on our circumstances. If they were, then I’d be sitting here uncomfortable and non-joyous because my family and friends are gone and the dance is over. But I’m not. Rather, the more I get to know and express myself–the more authentic I am–the more comfortable and happy I am no matter where I go, no matter whom I’m with. After all, if you’re content with yourself and you’re always with yourself, then what’s the problem?