A lesson in presence.
I am not a “happy” person, although I am normally pretty content. So when I have moments where I feel a sense of peace that radiates from my chest and lingers on my face, blossoming into a small smile…
I notice. I pay attention. I want to memorialize it.
I hang the piece of happiness up on the coat rack. I attempt to suspend the moment while I run to my desk and grab a pen and paper.
I need to document this feeling, this happiness…
Where did it come from? What caused it? How do I recreate it? What is the meaning of this feeling; this peace that transcends my current circumstance? I need to know the HOW of it!
While I am rushing around trying to KNOW the texture of this moment, feeling along its edges to see what it’s made of, it has hopped off the coat rack and made its exit!
I return to stare at the emptiness like a Picasso on the wall only to find the raincoat I never wear because raindrops on my skin make me feel alive. I analyze the shape of the missing happiness but already the memory is fuzzy. Hazy.
In my need to know why I felt the happiness, I inadvertently forgot to FEEL it, and now it is gone…
That’s okay, though! The next time such a moment arises, and I am hopeful that it will (growth for this recovering pessimist) I will sit next to it with contentment as if by a firepit with a dear friend and be warmed by its quiet flame.
I will not try to grab it, study it, or know it; I will just be grateful for its presence for as long as it decides to stay. When it moves on, I shall reflect with that same small smile from which it bloomed and use my pen to capture my memories of that feeling on the page.
Happiness…
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