Here I sit, 2am, severely sleep deprived after 2 days with less than 3 hours sleep, eating a burger. And it dawns on me that this writing challenge business has flown right out my mind. And so I take a look at my writing prompt:
Happiness: What is your own secret for happiness? If you had to sum up your ideas, what one word would you use to describe how to be truly happy?
Ah, such deep thoughts for 2am. Happiness for me, at this precise moment, is eating this burger that is undoubtedly not healthy but tastes delicious in all it’s fatty goodness. My mind is drifting to thoughts of my parents who are currently away on holiday. Happiness for me is hearing their voices, knowing they are safe, seeing their smiles. I do miss them. Happiness is being surrounded by those who love you, despite all your shortcomings, of which there are many. Unconditional love. It’s humbling.
Despite the absurdity of this question, and I’ll tell you why it is absurd, I know the secret for happiness. And sometimes I look at the world with humans who wear masks even in front of themselves, refusing to just accept and be at peace, I think of how happiness eludes so many, even when they seem to be happy. That is a presumptuous stance, no doubt, but I see so many chasing the world and the world leaves them in the dust. And so, I would like to propose to the world at large, the secret for happiness.
The secret for happiness is not to be happy at all. No, it is not. The secret is to be content. And no, I don’t mean the type of contentment that comes from coming home after a long day and putting your feet up with a cup of tea/coffee (although tea/coffee brings a form of contentment in it’s own right). I’m talking about that deep-seated contentment that travels through your entire being and when you look at your life, all you see are the trinkets with which you have been gifted. Contentment is being satisfied with what you have, not looking for the next big fad, here, now, I close my eyes and I am content.
The thing is, I’m not happy with every part of me, I am a work in progress. And I will undoubtedly be a work in progress until my very last breath. But you don’t need perfection to be content and these two are so often conflated with the other that crowds become mindless zombies, pushing to become whatever society deems perfect at the time. Society will ask of you and ask of you and ask of you. And you will give and you will give and you will give until you are an empty shell, the living dead. So. Forget society. Be content with who you are, warts and all.
I said of the absurdity of this question. You cannot sum up in one word how to be happy. But perhaps you can: Contentment. For me, that is through recognising the infinite blessings in my life.
And so, I sit here with my burger, at 2.35am, severely sleep-deprived and I am tired.
[Please accept this in all it’s unedited glory. Unconditional love is beautiful, did I mention that.]