I stare at this journal way too often and debate whether or not it's worth writing down my thoughts. Truth is, it's always worth it. But I either don't want to think anymore or I get overwhelmed thinking about converting everything I feel into words on paper. It puts everything in a different light. It's easy to throw your hands up in your mind and shut off your thoughts. When you put something in writing it stares back at you. Allowing you to read your own words over and over. Does seeing the way I feel across lines of a notebook make it more or less real? I've always struggled with pulling out a pen and being okay with capturing what I'm thinking. I always wish I had done so but for some reason it seems so stressful at times. Of course, leave it to me to find stress in writing a journal. Ha.
A million and one things are constantly running through my head. When I go to break them down and sort out what's really on my mind, all I keep circling around is this wonder of happiness and satisfaction. I guess the two can go hand in hand. Satisfaction usually makes you happy and being happy usually keeps you satisfied. So who came first? The chicken or the egg?
I learn more and more every day that happiness seems to fuel every desire and outlook I have on life. I don't get the idea of "searching for happiness" or this hope to "just be happy someday." It's not like there is this big gold pot of happiness at the end some rainbow. It's not out there waiting to be found. It's created. I'm learning what creating that feeling is actually like. But I really don't see it as a destination at the end of some eventful journey. Is it weird for me to think it's such an every day thing? That you make your happiness daily and shape your satisfaction of life? Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who thinks this way. Sure, to some I have this young and fresh view of the world but I know me. I know what thoughts are naive and innocent and I know what ideas and passions of mine are just part of my spirit, part of my soul - one I was given graciously by my mother.
I guess with that mentality there is no excuse for me to wonder if I'm happy or not, huh? It's my choice. That perspective has definitely been handed to me by her. The idea that happiness is mine daily if I choose to create it. It comes from the inside. All my mom wants is for me to be happy. And I didn't realize until writing this that she found a way to give that gift. She found a way to put it in a box, tie it with a bow and pass it on to another being without ever saying a word. You can't realize these gifts that are so far from tangible until you find them in yourself. And you'll never find them without the belief in others.
I love you, Mom.
A million and one things are constantly running through my head. When I go to break them down and sort out what's really on my mind, all I keep circling around is this wonder of happiness and satisfaction. I guess the two can go hand in hand. Satisfaction usually makes you happy and being happy usually keeps you satisfied. So who came first? The chicken or the egg?
I learn more and more every day that happiness seems to fuel every desire and outlook I have on life. I don't get the idea of "searching for happiness" or this hope to "just be happy someday." It's not like there is this big gold pot of happiness at the end some rainbow. It's not out there waiting to be found. It's created. I'm learning what creating that feeling is actually like. But I really don't see it as a destination at the end of some eventful journey. Is it weird for me to think it's such an every day thing? That you make your happiness daily and shape your satisfaction of life? Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who thinks this way. Sure, to some I have this young and fresh view of the world but I know me. I know what thoughts are naive and innocent and I know what ideas and passions of mine are just part of my spirit, part of my soul - one I was given graciously by my mother.
I guess with that mentality there is no excuse for me to wonder if I'm happy or not, huh? It's my choice. That perspective has definitely been handed to me by her. The idea that happiness is mine daily if I choose to create it. It comes from the inside. All my mom wants is for me to be happy. And I didn't realize until writing this that she found a way to give that gift. She found a way to put it in a box, tie it with a bow and pass it on to another being without ever saying a word. You can't realize these gifts that are so far from tangible until you find them in yourself. And you'll never find them without the belief in others.
I love you, Mom.
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