Happier than I have been in a very long time. This summer has probably been one of my best so far, and not in terms of where we, as a family, went holidaying, but in terms of how things have shaped up for me so far.
I must admit, the whole guitar and music scene has suffered a bit for me, considering I decided to pursue my recent-found love for photography. Yes, a Digital Single-Lens Reflex Camera. I joined the DSLR cult.
I need to figure out a way to balance both. And, a way to control my ADD tendency towards my hobbies. I have begun to multitask way too much. I know multitasking is good, yet, not really at times.
Hobbies can’t make one happy, alone. Or maybe they can. I don’t know. I haven’t really made new friends as such. Just maintained the old ones, and probably realized their worth. However, I may have become familiar with people who were strangers a few months ago, to an extent where their presence has become a refreshing part of my mundane routine.
I sometimes wonder what happiness really means. When you’re plunged in the depth of your worst nightmares and when the world is an epitome of melancholy, happiness becomes an eclipsed entity, an idea that becomes so obscure that its existence is almost as good as gone. That’s when one scrounges for it in every nook and corner, and probably assumes it lies concealed in rings of cigarette smoke or submerged in a bottle of liquor. Or maybe it could be stolen from someone and be unleashed through pure sadism and malice.
But at least you feel happy at the end of your pursuit.
What about the time when you step out of a never ending dark tunnel and step into sunlight? The rays could be from a warm summer’s sun or probably from that of a cold winter, but, it’s sunlight all the same. It makes your path visible. It’s a far cry from despair, and its bound to fill your heart with zeal. That’s the sort of happiness which is well deserved. The kind of happiness that makes you want to gulp it, breathe it, and fill your lungs with.
Then again, happiness could mean reading Murakami’s book one morning with a cuppa filter coffee and a plate of cheese sandwich. Or it could mean climbing a not so high hill, one rainy afternoon, with a dear one you meet after what seemed forever. Or it could mean just going to bed feeling content.
I’m scratching my head right now. It doesn’t have a definition. Or maybe it has a multitude of them.
I am happy 🙂