Sunday, April 5, 2009

Those Strange Happy Days (selfish post)

And there are mornings when, sitting in my chair by the window reading, in this case, an intellectual history of the birth of modern sociology, I'll set my book down, take a sip of warm tea and breathe deeply (usually nag champa fumes) - everything goes crystalline.

I've often wondered if it's some strange combination of "upper" hormones and sunlight, or if the post-rock Icelandic crooning that I'm listening to is somehow changing the way my mind orders priorities. In doing so, I've found that I don't really care how it happens, how I can have these moments of stunningly happy clarity and sense of purpose. I do know that as I stand here typing this post, it takes every fiber of my being to not shout with joy and run outside toward the sun.

There's nothing in my existence that suggests I lead anything less than a charmed life, and while there is always a part of me that says, "Stop talking so much about how happy you are!" the fact remains: Every day is an explosion.

Whew. I've got great friends, great family, pets (they live 900 miles away, sadly), my health, plenty of tea, and an overwhelming, perhaps uncomfortably, optimistic future-view.

I'm riding a smile-boat on an ocean of unicorns and stardust, and doing what I can to bring that feeling to those around me. Keep up the good work, everybody. We're all in this together.

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