Can’t quite touch it, can’t quite hold it in. It comes unpacked and unwrapped, without its own decorative box. It doesn’t announce its arrival.
Yet we continue to believe otherwise. We try to sense it – as if it smells or tastes like something we know, try to take it in – as if it can be captured and kept. We look for shiny things that may indicate it’s presence, look for signs that inform of its coming. We look for signs.
And we are dismayed every time it eludes us. And elude us, it will. For we are cursed to receive all, only through five sensory perceptions. The one sense that allows us to experience happiness is the one condemned to rust and rot.
The ability to be.
In a moment when happiness envelops us, we are too busy; are too lost looking for all things tangible that we believe will make us happy, and happiness passes us by. It is the eternal struggle of filling emptiness with void, to get from nowhere to no place, and in that journey, we lose the moment that we search for, in between.
I stood outside a non-smoking establishment two days ago, having one of my best cigarette ever. I experienced a feeling I hadn’t, for a long time. I was almost suspicious of this foreign emotion. It enveloped me, gagged me of any possible expression or analysis, to the limit of being euphoric. Standing alone, looking out to the cold English evening sky, on that dark patio, happiness lit up like bright fireworks, giving me a slight hint of its identity.
I said, oh, so this is who you are, this is how you are. You know, I have been looking for you so many places, for so long. I wouldn’t have recognised you, I never saw a hint nor tint of you, in any of my quests.
It didn’t quite answer me, but I sensed an answer. In the dynamic effort to be who we are not, conforming to political correctness and imposed social sensitivity – we have desensitised ourselves to our selves. We are no more cognisant of our selves. We hardly notice our selves—the pain and tribulation of hard labour, to conform.
I smiled back.
In my be-ing, I am my happiness.