The Art of Living
The older I get, the more I understand that life isn’t about perfectly staged moments or pristine memories or even long periods of joy. It’s about all the other stuff too. In many ways, all of that other stuff is life as painful and frustrating, and sublime, as those tiny dots in time can be.
It’s taken me 28 years to realise that for me happiness is an ever-changing endlessly turning wheel. Happiness is a kaleidoscope. No one revolution the same as the last. Happiness is hope, and a person can live in hope if only if they try.
This year has been somewhat eventful for me. Great, unmatched, joy has been mixed with sharp and jagged sorrow. Sublime Sunday afternoons entangled in each others arms snowstorm into long, distant, and sometimes lonely, travel.
But, however changing and uncertain the future might be, I know that what has made this one of the happiest years of my life (apart from the people around me) is within me. Now, more than ever, I trust myself. And when you can trust yourself everything else seems to just fall into place. Life just seems to work.