Do We Know Happiness


Do We Know Happiness 

The deeper I dig into this conscience, the darker the world becomes. Prickling with dismal allegories, and I can't help but feel as if there is no true happiness. That this word, "happiness," is but a false manipulation of the mind in the masses to carry out malicious intent. 

To feed the society a spoonful of an abstract meaning, which I find to be unattainable. Even if one finds themselves in the embrace of "happiness," foolish acts are made. Arbitrary decisions drag out an in almost sadistic undertaking by the ego in an almost manic state.

Rising one up only to drop them further, to press them into crises when anything fails. "Happiness;" what truly is it when we give it a name, a name to something that cannot be explained in words? No matter how many words we use to explain it, we often respond with,

"I can't explain it, I just feel it."

By no means am I saying one cannot be happy, that they shouldn't, rather, maybe the way we look at "happiness" is wrong?

It's A feeling that transcends our thoughts and can elate us to a euphoric stage. Even those I meet of "happiness," still run into the miserable tyranny of tragedy.

In such a mindset, one in "happiness," these people must falsify their emotions, their feelings. For their ego or conscience, knows that tragedy is a burden, it carries immense pain. So these "happy" few in the world. Distort their vision of tragedy and happiness.

Creating what one might call, a facade. An existential process that leads them to believe what is not true, but make it true, so that they may remain focused on living. To keep themselves from falling trap to despair, and most, if not all of us know despair well. It's an ugly face that I wish none had to ever stand company too.

These "happy" few constantly mold the mind in its plasticity to become a fog of "truthful" lies. What I mean by that is, one can turn the lens at what they see, if it be horrible, turn the lens toward something beautiful.

They fully know, lets say, their home is being burned down. But it is too late to rescue it and all their belongings are devoured in the reaction of unforgiving molecules. But, instead of them focusing on the combustion of flames as it turns their life into ashes.

They place the lens, lets say, toward their friends, wife, or children perhaps. From that, they see what still exists though their shelter, where much of themselves exist, is no more. So they pluck from what is left to create what gives them "happiness."

I find it strange though, that we often talk of "happiness" to mean something different for everyone. But if that is so, why is it so difficult for many to find it? Wouldn't that mean one could simply extract "happiness" from anything and wear it every day?

Or have we twisted "happiness" to be merely a trick. An illusion, a ruse, a ploy to contend to the masses. To make those that are too weak to fight for themselves to feel even weaker. Turning their lives over to the world. Living jobs they loath and feeling as if "happiness" is either something they do not deserve or is always out of reach.

Many times we see "happiness" portrayed on the front of magazines and ads in the form of materials. Families held tight together as they stand in front of a new extravagant item, what ever it may be, smiles stretched passed their ears.

Such things make me wonder what the purpose of "happiness" truly is.

Could it be for one to use it as reason to keep going, thinking that they will eventually find it? I do not say these words lightly and I do not say one cannot be "happy," but maybe what we say is "happiness" or explain what it is, is actually something else. What that may be, I do not know.

Maybe, we are feeling something beyond what our physical nature can comprehend. Leading us to think it can  never be achieved or must be fought for.

For if it does come from the spiritual, it would be like splitting an atom, and doing so, takes more energy than a simple thought. Maybe gathering happiness one must give up resources in order to split our despair and make it malleable.

So that we may feast upon it in small manageable bites allowing us to digest it in find clearing in the fog. Maybe we must dispense of something in order to get happiness, a sacrifice lets say. Like energy, it never disappears, it is merely transferred.

And maybe in the transfer of used up, wasted, or neglected happiness it is turned into what we see or feel as pain, tragedy, and/or grief. So we must learn to take that bleak energy, store it, and eventual transfer, or possibly, trade it for what ever "happiness" may be.
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Thank you so much for reading.

What are your thoughts on happiness? 

Find more deep thoughts in, A Man's Traveled Heart
Coming soon, The Bleeding of Words. 

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