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On Being Happy (Part One)

Does happiness sit in a bottle on my shelf?

Can I find what I’m looking for in a manufactured pill?

Does happiness come if I alter what's inside of me, what I can't see and feel unable to control?

Or, does happiness come with the things I buy? The car I drive and the clothes I wear? The house I live in and the way I decorate it?

Would I feel better if I could just buy happiness?

Or, is the size and shape of my happiness dictated by the size and shape of my body? Would I be happier if I were skinnier or prettier? Would I be happier if my nose were smaller, my breasts fuller and my tummy tighter?

Is happiness found in success, in professional achievement or academic accolades? Is being happy getting an A and getting a corner office?

Or, is happiness being present in every moment, especially for my girls? Would I be happy if I knew I could pick them up from school every day, if I didn't get the sweats thinking about when the school nurse calls me to pick them up, or if I didn't lose sleep over the elaborate child-care schematic I create every month?

Could I be happy if I were the most popular mom on the block? If everyone liked me and wanted to spend time with me, you know, like on any given night, not just to spend money at their product party?

Would I smile more, and breathe easier, if I started thinking that the glass was half full instead of half empty? Would I feel less empty if my brain, my thoughts, my anxiety, wasn’t so full?

Or, is happiness packaged within gratitude? Would I feel less like jumping out of my skin if I were more grateful for this life I have and the people who surround me each day with love and sympathy and compassion? Would I feel happier if I stopped complaining about having no shoes because I saw the man who had no feet?

One day, I asked a person I love deeply a simple question: what do you want from me?

They replied with a simple answer: I want you to be happy.

I said I agree.

Happy. Happiness. Be happy.

So simple.

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