The night is wet and cold but I am curled up on a soft yellow sofa. Bright orange flames are licking their way up the teepee of logs in my fireplace.  I’m thinking that happiness is made of this, a warm fire on a wet night, the smell of a roast in the oven, the surface of my desk after I’ve cleared  and polished it.

We set such lofty goals and wear ourselves out chasing them.  Which is exhilarating to be sure.  I love to live large and explore the world for the surprise and delight of it.  Or the chance to prove myself against the challenges of the road.  But happiness I find much closer to home.

Researchers say that there are at least three kinds of happiness: there is the kind that comes from living in alignment with your values, the kind that comes from achieving the goals you set for yourself, and then there is the kind that comes from sensual pleasure.  I might as well be a cat or dog in front of this fire tonight.  Which might not sound like a great thing to you, but to someone whose mind is always spinning, who feels the weight of self awareness and the responsibilities that come with it, I have to say it feels like heaven. (Not that the dog or cat would be thinking in metaphoric and metaphysical terms.)

Three morals in this story,

1. Happiness is a warm fire on a wet night.

2. Or the smell of a good dinner in the oven.

3. Happiness is never so far out of reach as we think.

Yours with creativity and imagination,



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