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An interlude is the space in between.   Yesterday, I fell into one.  It was the happiest of accidents.  I lay in this mental space between all the “I wants” and “I don’t haves” and realized that just laying in the interlude was enough.

I hadn’t seen this interlude before I fell in it.  I’d been thinking about all I didn’t get done during the day.  I’d started to scold myself for not doing more, for not being more organized, for not fully seizing the day.  Then, I suddenly realized that listing all I didn’t do hid all that I did.  I decided to look at what I had accomplished.  I decided it was okay to feel satisfied.  It didn’t mean that there weren’t other things that I could have done.  It didn’t mean that I utilized all the minutes of the day at maximum efficiency.   It just meant that I could enjoy the feeling of satisfaction based on what I had accomplished.

This may seem like a ridiculously simple concept.  I might be the last person on planet earth to figure this out, but I don’t think so.  In a normal day, I don’t meet a lot of happy or satisfied people.  In fact, a happy, cheerful person really stands out.

Some times when I’m in a grumpy mood, happy people make me feel suspicious.  I wonder what they’re hiding behind the smiles.  Silly isn’t it? That some one’s smiling should cause paranoia.   Why can’t they be happy for happiness sake at least on occasion?  Why can’t I.  Would it really hurt if I indulged in cheerfulness and smiles more often?  In fact, couldn’t happiness be a genuine benefit?

I can hear the arguments against happiness/satisfaction now:

It’s just not natural.

They must be in denial.

The world is a mess how can anyone with half a brain be happy?

If happiness is an illusion, the supreme form of denial, then I can think of a lot of things that are worse.   If the last grand illusion is that we humans have anything to smile about then that’s the kind of illusion that I can live with until death liberates me from the hell I’ve been overlooking.

I’m smiling now.  Thinking about indulging in this questionable happiness seems like the kind of joke in which I would derive the last laugh.   Maybe cultivating happiness, optimism and a cheerful disposition seems idiotic to some but maybe it’s actually a lovely act of revenge or more accurately retribution.  In the face of tragedy, the noble person laughs, not in denial but because they can.  This seems the most delicious of responses.

And, so, as this day begins to wane and I still have miles to go before I sleep, I am going indulge in some good old-fashioned satisfaction in spite of myself, in spite of all the unhappy, dissatisfied people, in spite of all that remains undone,  in spite of all the things in my life worthy of tears.  There are also many things worry of a smile, a laugh, a feeling of contentment.  Unhappiness and dissatisfaction will have to wait.

I am the person behind the words printed here. I write because my heart will not allow me the option of NOT writing. It has taken me half a life time to discover this basic truth, but now that I have, writing is as natural as breathing. This is where my breath takes the form of words.


I am reading

The Miracle Morning: The Not-So-Obvious Secret Guaranteed to Transform Your Life (Before 8AM)
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