As bummed as I am to admit it, I think I must; I haven’t felt happy in weeks.
It’s a really difficult time for me and no new–age pithy inspirational poster with dolphins at sunset will make my spiritual Styrofoam cup half full.
It’s not; my cracked and chipped cup is just in between.
From what I can gather in my musings, the working balance between the endless doldrums of melancholy and the giddy heights of perpetual happiness, is more important than the romantic notions of either extreme.
Yet how does one achieve this elusive, mystical equilibrium?
I dunno. But I do know it lays somewhere in the sharp rocky bed of truth and self-analysis.
The more we indulge the notion that smiling through pain is essential for our (and often others) happiness, the further we bury our ability to change, remove or alter that which hurt us in the first place.
Most of us are caught up in the machinations of the day-to-day grind and it’s tricky to find time to be lost in oneself and to be able to question ones needs and wants verses expectations of what one ‘should’ do.
‘Indulgent’ and ‘selfish’ are words we use to describe people who take time away to pull apart their layers and to seek their own truths.
This is a shame and while understandable in our culture of action and immediacy to not seek depth, to not do so can lead to an almost psychotic existence where we become the mask we don and lose our beautiful depth and wild selves.
I’m all for the occasional and essential distraction but not as a lifestyle and I believe that unless we turn off the machines and addictions of escapism, the more we will lose ourselves and our ability to be simply content, which is a far better goal than happiness because lets face it, it’s far more realistic one.
Perpetual, seemingly happy people are, like their opposites, tiresome and there is only so much time you can indulge their character; because really that’s what it feels like, a character, a performance, a mask if you will.
While some of you may think I am being harsh and there are people who are, by no fault of their own, bubbly and cheery by nature. I’d agree that some people are chipper and delightful but scratch the surface and you should see cracks in the veneer and if you don’t, then I’d be very cautious indeed.
Everyone has their dark, as it’s essential for rest, contemplation and growth and those that conceal it are a worry.
If we are to seek the comfort of connection as humans then surely we all deserve depth and honesty.
Some may, for whatever reason, not want this and as Khalil Gibran so beautifully says,
‘But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.’
So while I can admit I haven’t been happy in weeks, this is because, without mincing words, it’s been a shit of a time for me and as I watch the pendulum smash me in the face, I know at some point it will swing back yet again and yes, I know, this too shall pass until it eventually it will stop, but when it does, what then will I write about?
It’s a really difficult time for me and no new–age pithy inspirational poster with dolphins at sunset will make my spiritual Styrofoam cup half full.
It’s not; my cracked and chipped cup is just in between.
From what I can gather in my musings, the working balance between the endless doldrums of melancholy and the giddy heights of perpetual happiness, is more important than the romantic notions of either extreme.
Yet how does one achieve this elusive, mystical equilibrium?
I dunno. But I do know it lays somewhere in the sharp rocky bed of truth and self-analysis.
The more we indulge the notion that smiling through pain is essential for our (and often others) happiness, the further we bury our ability to change, remove or alter that which hurt us in the first place.
Most of us are caught up in the machinations of the day-to-day grind and it’s tricky to find time to be lost in oneself and to be able to question ones needs and wants verses expectations of what one ‘should’ do.
‘Indulgent’ and ‘selfish’ are words we use to describe people who take time away to pull apart their layers and to seek their own truths.
This is a shame and while understandable in our culture of action and immediacy to not seek depth, to not do so can lead to an almost psychotic existence where we become the mask we don and lose our beautiful depth and wild selves.
I’m all for the occasional and essential distraction but not as a lifestyle and I believe that unless we turn off the machines and addictions of escapism, the more we will lose ourselves and our ability to be simply content, which is a far better goal than happiness because lets face it, it’s far more realistic one.
Perpetual, seemingly happy people are, like their opposites, tiresome and there is only so much time you can indulge their character; because really that’s what it feels like, a character, a performance, a mask if you will.
While some of you may think I am being harsh and there are people who are, by no fault of their own, bubbly and cheery by nature. I’d agree that some people are chipper and delightful but scratch the surface and you should see cracks in the veneer and if you don’t, then I’d be very cautious indeed.
Everyone has their dark, as it’s essential for rest, contemplation and growth and those that conceal it are a worry.
If we are to seek the comfort of connection as humans then surely we all deserve depth and honesty.
Some may, for whatever reason, not want this and as Khalil Gibran so beautifully says,
‘But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.’
So while I can admit I haven’t been happy in weeks, this is because, without mincing words, it’s been a shit of a time for me and as I watch the pendulum smash me in the face, I know at some point it will swing back yet again and yes, I know, this too shall pass until it eventually it will stop, but when it does, what then will I write about?