Don't Pursue Happiness, Create It

I took my son out for a walk through our neighborhood this evening. It was too irresistible to pass up. For those of you not living in the hotter climes of the world, Texas gets hot. Add in the ever present mosquitoes and the 85% humidity and the prospect of an itchy, sticky, sweltering evening outside is usually easy to turn your back on.

But tonight...tonight was as perfect an evening as a July evening in the South can get. 83 degrees (F), 74% humidity, and: a breeze. The sun was just beginning its daily descent, shimmering off the still waters of the small lake that borders our cul-de-sac. As we walked its edge, small ripples appeared here and there as turtles poked their heads out inquisitively. Various birds wheeled just above the water, swooping, diving, skimming the surface, feeding on mosquitoes and gnats. We sat, taking in the scene, the high pitched drone of cicadas a constant soundtrack for our outdoor time. (Okay readers, I have to pause for a moment and admit I haven't the slightest idea about Texas fauna. They might've been crickets or grasshoppers for that matter. I feel cicada has a nice sound to it, so I'm going with that. Either way, whatever type of insect, they have a way of creating a comfortable humming sound, capable of quickly lulling you into a drowsy state of wakeful dreaming.)

Our View

I felt a sudden catch in my chest, a slight constriction of my heart. It...was...beautiful. For a split second, I regretted our eventual move. Was life really that bad here at home? Sure, Steven technically

didn't have a job after September. But he'd land on his feet; he always did, right? And maybe I could turn on my work autopilot and grind away for a few more years. After all, I had my own office--a pretty big one at that.  Hadn't I coveted that for years?  Maybe I could get more creative about spending more time with my son, ensure the time we were spending was meaningful. Our neighbors were phenomenal, our social life was fulfilling, I had a few very special friends, (B, J, H, E, C, I'm talking about you). We were blessed to live close to our wonderful family and I was glad we were able to provide the kind of lifestyle for our son that I could only have dreamed about when I was growing up. We'd be losing all of it in one fell swoop. I felt the lump slowly travel from my chest, up through my throat.

As we walked back, I felt compelled to try to burn the image into my mind, as if I'd never see it again. But I guess the truth is, I never will. No two moments are ever exactly the same. The clouds will never glow quite that way again, backlit by the slowly setting sun. My son will never be this exact age again. The birds will not fly that exact pattern tomorrow evening.

Once inside the house, my eyes caught on the fortune cookies I'd got with my take-out lunch that afternoon. They're a special treat for my two dogs, and the extreme crunch seems to give my dogs extra satisfaction. I'd forgotten all about them. I unwrapped the cellophane, broke the cookies in half and read the fortune: Don't pursue happiness-create it.

That was us. We weren't just hoping we'd done enough to have happiness land at our door, we were going out to get it. I'd always known we'd needed more. Wanted more. I knew it every time I heard the exotic sounds of an Indian Sitar, or a Chinese Pipa. I could feel the vibrations in my very bones the first time I heard live Japanese Taiko drums, felt something shatter in me and reassemble in new configurations when I saw the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Coliseum, the Acropolis, the Vatican, the Turkish Souks, all up close and personal. I remember having my emotions whipped into a near frenzy while watching a Spanish Flamenco performance. I remember wanting to cry I was so moved by the uninhibited dancing, the staccato beat steadily filling your ears, your mind, your soul.

We're setting out to get it, happiness. We've had it all along, so maybe we're greedy for wanting even more. It means sacrificing things, changing things. Like energy, real friendships never disappear,  they just change their form. So it's okay that I'll never see that exact scene again. It's in my mind, a new part of my fiber, like all the collective experiences we'll gather along the way. Then again,  my lucky word on the back of the fortune was "banana", so maybe I'm just reading too much into it all:)