I am of one the happiest people I know. It’s taken me a long time to get to this present state of happification, but I am definitely here now. And here to stay.
This evening I walked into my studio after what seemed like weeks of being away (it was only 6 days), fell down onto my mat, hugged my knees to my chest and rocked back and forth whispering,
Until you know what you are meant to do, what your true work is, until you find what Buddhists call your “dharma,” happiness will always elude you.
But once you figure that out, and then begin to actually do it, happiness is yours.
I love my life. I love what I do. What I do is not a ‘job.” What I do is not “work.”
What I do is joy. What I do is love. What I do is a miracle. What I do is perfectly aligned with all my values, with everything I believe deep, deep down.
It’s taken me a big chunk of my lifespan, lots of tears, and years of frustration to get to this place. It’s taken more courage than I actually have, and along the way I’ve made some huge honking mistakes.
Of the many “roles” I have played in this life: mother, sister, aunt, spouse, neighbor, friend, student and teacher, to name a few, most of them I have played rather badly (much to my shame and embarrassment.)
Granted, some of these roles I had no say in—they were accidents of birth or were thrust upon me by pure spatial coincidence.
(or were they???)
But these two sticks I am currently rubbing together to create the “spark” that is responsible for my feelings of deep happiness (i.e. the writing and the yoga) don’t feel like “roles” at all. They feel like “right.” They feel like clothes that have been custom designed just for me.
For years I walked around in clothes that didn’t fit and shoes that were always one size too small.
Now, no more bunions, no more dragging hems.
Cinderella has found the right slipper at last, and, oddly enough, it’s…bare feet!