Something always seems to hijack your bliss. It could be a neighbor who hangs out on his porch in his underwear or the person sharing gallbladder surgery on speaker phone alongside your morning coffee.
I wish that I could head to the nearest Waldomart and buy a six pack of happiness. My six pack might include:
- A field of beautiful flowers, but not the allergy producing variety.
- Sunshine, but not too hot.
- Bug spray, but not the kind that causes cancer.
- Wine, but without the sulfites that stuff up my sinuses.
- A companion who doesn’t annoy me.
Damn human nature, conditions and perfection are the hijackers of bliss.
Isn’t the field of flowers a result of a combination of sunshine and rain?
I must work towards true happiness which is the ability to sit in a barren field, alone, with nothing, under raindrops, and smile.