Types of joy:
If you measure by the number of people you are with.
- Happiness with a big group of people you don’t hate. Usually at a party or some kind of social event. With nice food, and drinks. Maybe a tiny cute dessert that melt your heart. Maybe some goodlooking guy smiled at you genuinely. Maybe you went into the bush or sat by the sea. Or you just found yourself connected with someone you’ve never really talked to. Or after 20 years of separation, you got back together at a restaurant… no, I’m never truly happy in this kind of alumni gathering. And the next morning, it’s gone.
- Happiness with a few important someone. When you feel your soul is complete. Somebody completes your soul. You feel so alive and clear about everything in your life. You are with this person because this person makes you adorable, or fills you with faith. Either theirs or yours. And this person will be away. And you’ve lost them. Maybe not the person, but the faiths, the belief in yourself, and half of your soul.
- Happiness with yourself. Only when you feel you’re full of hope. Or you’re full of now. Anything in between these two, will be a disaster.
If you measure by the level of social status, power and wealth:
This is easy. As long as you achieve something you haven’t had before, that will make you happy. Then you’ll get used to having it. And you need something more. This transitory essence of happiness associated with power and money will only makes it harder for you, if you lose a tiny bit of it.
Or if you measure by where you’re at, in a word, geographically:
Somewhere magic. Iceland, Antarctica, somewhere with sweet spring in the middle of a desert. Your Island. You embrace the universe with your tiny heart and let it penetrates you, makes you a vivid creature, adds complexity to your look and your story so you can see people deeper, but suffer from having little resonance from the majority of people you meet. You’re lonelier.
Somewhere you call home. No shower, no makeup, loose pants. No socks, slippers patting on the floor, creating the sound that would piss your mom off. And your mom is actually there! What a surprise. And then, she’s gone at dawn, you had a dream that she called your name before she left. You woke up, seeing the boiled egg on the table. Her phone call came in, said, don’t forget to close the windows when you leave. She didn’t even tried to wake you up and let you give her a hug.
Joy doesn’t change her face. She just comes and goes, creating hardship for people, so they would welcome her harder, the next time.
Happiness is a bitch.
I was lying in bed when Ms. Y was gone. She said she called my name. But I didn’t hear. I can’t remember if I fell asleep or not. Even though that was only 7 hours ago. I couldn’t remember. The only thing I remembered is that, I’m attached to this life. This life with her talking shit with me everyday. This life that I couldn’t go anywhere, but everything I have in my mind, I can just blurt out to her. It doesn’t matter if she wants to hear it or not, she will listen to.
Because that’s what she’s been doing to me. I felt uncomfortable at the beginning, but I guess I really needed someone to talk to, to say my mind out without any stress, without any double thought. And we love the same type of food. During the time we are not supposed to meet up anyone else, we were fully with each other. I was trapped by my idea of fully devoted to my business. She was tortured by her new job.
What a life. And now we are both stranded by visa issues.
I’ve had enough fight with people during the last two weeks. More than anything I’ve had since April 2017. Growth pains. I was lying in bed Thursday night, and my nose started bleeding. Mom said, you don’t sound right.
“We have money. We can live this life peace and safe. Don’t stress yourself. You don’t have to.” —- That’s what she always says.
I spent the last 3 years making this baby, killing it, reforming it, transforming it, again and again, with the same person. And I don’t like this baby anymore.
It changed me. It deprived me of what I should have. It sucked some best part of me out. All of a sudden, I’m not myself anymore. I’ve lost my glam.
If mama is not great anymore, how can the baby be? I have to take that focus off me. Which might mean, spending less time curating what is now being curated, and set it free with the best guidance. It needs to grow up by itself.
People abandon their favorite things unconciously, for something they consider better. Am I doing the same? Is there anything I consider better?
No idea.
But change is always good.
maoa 