Maybe I’m built differently or maybe I’m just like you but I question everything. I have far more questions about life than answers. I drive myself (and likely those around me) crazy with my incessant wondering about the meaning of life. It’s why I write.
I’m hoping one day the answers will show up. Or maybe they’re already here; I just can’t connect the thoughts into a cohesive unit to make it all make sense. Everything swirls and I’m left wondering.
Am I okay?
Very well then. Am I happy?
What brings me joy?
And if joy comes from solitary activities, am I missing the point of life?
Why do I judge myself so much?
Why do I constantly question?
Why can’t I just be happy?
Why is this so hard?
As I approach the last half of life I want to know I lived life the best I could. I want to do the things that bring me the greatest joy. I want to make a difference. I want to leave a mark.
But the questions stir my soul. And more questions appear.
It occurs to me that the things that make me happiest are things I don’t have to try too hard to do or think too much about.
The joy of being a human in this lifetime IS enough. Yet, therein lies the paradox.
As humans we’re gifted and cursed. We’re gifted with consciousness but too much thought complicates life.
Sheryl Crow succintly writes about this paradox. “If it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad. If it makes you happy, then why the hell are you so sad?”
Pure BEing-ness is where the bliss lies.
It sounds silly but it’s true. When is the last time you were truly happy? I’m betting you didn’t have to think too much.
I’m guessing you were simply enjoying the moment — laughing, writing, making love, watching your child do anything that makes him/her happy, listening to the birds sing, drawing, playing with your dog, feeling the warmth of the sun or the breeze against your skin …
So, are you happy? What will it take? Can you simplify?
Am I happy? In this moment, as I’m writing to you, yes.
And this moment is all that really matters anyway.