…is a warm gun
My dear friend (aka fabulous web designer) Tzaddi recently blogged about being thankful. I, myself, have been trying to round up a different beast of burden: happiness.
I have found it akin to herding cats.
Of course the concept of happiness is different for everybody; each person has their own idea of what it is. Some folk even manage to go out and get it.
And then there is me.
I definitely fit into the Grass Is Greener category of happiness. I sometimes wonder if I am happy…I just don’t know it because I am so consumed with thinking I would be so much happier doing/being something else. The moments of joy that I do have seem fleeting. I always seem to be busy steeling myself for the next bout of ennui.
Not even sure I know what would make me happy anymore. Achieving happiness seems easier when you are a kid. When I was ten I could buy happy for a quarter: a bag of penny candy, an afternoon of swimming at the pool. Happiness is more complicated when you are an adult. Or maybe it isn’t.
Damn. What if I am happy – but just too obtuse to recognize it?
Like it or not, dissatisfaction does propel me forward (and backward and sideways). Maybe I wouldn’t have a reason to push so much if I didn’t want more. Maybe I wouldn’t be an artist if I wasn’t so pervasively unsatisfied.
Or maybe I would. And my art would be all teddy bears having picnics and princesses riding unicorns into the sunset.
Not that there’s anything wrong with teddy bears and unicorns, you know.
If that’s what you’re into.