The rough curls of the wool were starting to be more indeterminately sensed at the mount of my extremities. My full lips were heavy from all the codes sleep has swayed along my breathes throughout the night. My hair was as messy as ever, or maybe just a little more. My core was pampered with more of a vibrant uniformity of heat tranquilizing the layers above and within. My eyes were selecting more of the sneaky white lights from the window to the left. Everything else in the room was already muted and already devoured by what was once a contemplation of intermittent joys and side of laughter. The more lights were trapped on my face and onto my conscious self, the more soothing was the flock of rain penetrating the cement outside. The more savoring was the smell of the dirt peering from the space between the end of the window and its slit. All the stretching and mumbling then took place along the exponential awareness ritual at just another morning of September. All the details made me happy.
Every day, along every event, there comes some little moments. The moment when I put on my shoes, and they fit perfectly. The moment when I see my hair falling into place without even trying. The moment when I walk into a laughing person, and he smilingly and energetically apologizes to me. All those tiny moments mount to why I go on every day. They are the reason I leave my warm bed sheets every morning. They are the reason I'm happy. So, what is happiness really?
I habituated myself to focus more on my mornings. I started giving more attention to the small moments and focused on savoring all the tiny "high" pieces of time. So, I spent more time with the sun rays frizzling on my face, but soon my skin overheated. I tried to spend more time with all those that bump into me along my walks, but they all hurried away. No matter how hard I tried to clutch to those moments, they always found a way to pour through my fingers.
Philosophers have spent ages discussing the secrets to utmost happiness. Some cynical analysts even tried to link it to theological roots; they discussed that the reason many religious networks believe in a heavenly being is out of their desperate desire to reach hypothetical perfection. Of course, the debate rooted and branched into different perspectives and approaches.
Eternity is a very huge concept really. It is the idea of an infinity greater than all infinities and the thrive for a lust bigger than the sum-total of all experiences encountered in a finite world. Can such an infinity exist? Or is it that such a concept is a creation of the human mind that is bound by a pragmatic limit to all sensations and euphoria?
Discussing the dimensions of the matrix into which we fall and the different levels of consciousness is quite enticing indeed. However, the dimensions of happiness, despite being derived from them, are independent from the dimensions of the experiences they come from. The state from which happiness stems is internal and relative. Happiness is relative. It is watered by a sense of content. It is derived from a belief. It is the indefinite infinity that exists in, but independently of, the small moments we share.
Happiness is everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It can be embedded within every experience for those who seek and cherish it as it may never exist for those who mistaken happiness as a quantifiable measure correlated with the intensity of the experience. It is a perspective that is embraced along the journey of the self. Happiness is an illusion of the mind. So, one can be happy from anything really. Happiness is what you want it to be.
