September 19, 2012 § 1 Comment
Conversation #01 in my head
Do you mellow as you age?
Is a mellow happiness less intense? Or is it taking the same quantity of happiness and stretching it out like sticky taffy for a long, long time? Sipping the liquified sunshine in your pocket vial to fortify you against the crocodile days. Is that a better move than slamming it back in a shotglass for a momentary high?
How about varying it?
Half in an mind-dizzying burst of ecstasy, half stirred slowly into a pot of earl grey to be tipped out, savoured over afternoons of cream biscuits and wildflowers in glass jars.
Or maybe it doesn’t matter the rate at which one spends happiness. Perhaps it’s who you spend it on.
Yourself. A friend. Family. A loved one. God. A book.
Does that make it too calculated? You’ll end up only wanting to give a slice away when you can get a cake back.
(Some days, I want to sit on these thoughts in my head and squash them.)
I’d say the only way is to constantly fill your tank of happy. If you always know there’s more coming your way, because you know exactly how to get it, you can use it any damn way you please.
And happiness freed holds back on nothing.