Google chose to feed me an article tonight…or perhaps it is ‘Pocket’ – some kind of pop-up article that appears to catch my fancy and get me to read and, of course, observe the advertising.
Tonight was on Happiness. In particular a poem by May Sarton. As one who appreciates both happiness and poetry, I thought…why not?
And so – whew. What to say? One white woman to the next? Your poem is too privileged? It comes from a space of truly not knowing happiness?
For, what is happiness when your home is ripped asunder? What is happiness if you do not come from wealth? We who are not able to appreciate cool waxed floors or furniture that hasn’t moved in a generation might feel happiness in the goodness of God.
In counter to her very calm, and peaceful take on happiness, I would offer something quite different…
The Work of Happiness…. **first draft, mental dump edition – give it grace and laughter please**
I thought of happiness… how it pierces the heart
on a still spring morning when a child’s shrill laughter
breaks the air of silence.
How happiness can creep upon you suddenly, in the depth of sadness
with the caress of the cool breeze of the morning air, the ruffle of the wind
through the alder trees leaves.
Happiness can just appear in a moment, a gust of joy
as you feel the movement of God in a child’s play, or the bloom
of a rose; in the achingly sweet and fragile scent of lilac.
Happiness can greet you with open arms as you admire
the flight of a butterfly, or hear the call of the loon across the water.
As you see the earth reborn in young creatures seeking to
dance with joy merely in the delight of moving their limbs.
Happiness can bring you to your knees in tears after you escape
from abuses and a song plays that echoes in your mind a world
from your own childhood.
Happiness can reshape your heart at 2am with your child who is suckling at your breast, when he reaches up to clutch your hair and you look down into eyes that still know and are connected to God and Heaven.
Happiness is a strong, calm hand holding your own.
Happiness is the dust motes in a quiet home, or library on a day when you
are granted peace.
Happiness is the meal you prepare at length to enjoy alongside those who love and care for you.
Happiness is the food you eat alone in front of the moon on a peaceful evening when you are tired from a day’s work.
Happiness is the coin for which we all live and is the right of every soul.
Pray for happiness. Be infused with light. May you feel joy from the tips of your toes to the ends of your hair. Let happiness, light, and life fill you up and live and dance and dream and walk.
***
But this is me. And Happiness is unique to all. Even stuffy old people who forget that not everyone has the privilege of waxed floors and draperies and furniture that hasn’t moved in a generation.