Happy…a quick letter to a friend

20150611_204216“You asked me last night if I’d ever be happy doing something or other. It has stuck with me.

Days like today which require all my energy and will…I wonder.

Then I pass the birds who’ve built nests between the insulated wiring and old limestone of Waters Hall.

And I realize that in that moment, I am happy.

Wonder returns for a few birdsong-in-the-limestone-caverns moment. As I walk across the Quad towards work, I think of other times that I know Happy.

Around the table-with Madi and Kenan and Zach and you and the Mayeses. Working, reading, walking, and day-dreaming beside you. Kids. Pups. Climbing. Mountains. Skiing. Good books. Waffletots.

Handing off a new way of seeing. Inviting kids…people to read a little and learn a little more. Hands in dirt. Running through the sprinklers or fountains in front of the Discovery Center. Friends who pitch in. The memory of somehow getting your giant-honking mattress up your corkscrew stairs with Gil and Trish. Your mom’s laugh. Izzy.

Following a job well done. And yes, unfortunately, I like to receive some credit for good work – a thank you. A ‘hey-I appreciate your help.’

Jeep rides and Wednesday-before-BOE with Marcia, Running and walking and making breakfasts with Katie and Dave. Watching Dave run in during his Ironman Half. Getting to know people around the table. Time with Mimi, Moe, and the funky bunch. Listening. Quiet. Wonder. Outside. Betts. Crock. A refreshing among college friends. Surprise visit from Afghanistan. Morning coffee in good company. Rachel & Ralph’s art. Hair cuts in the snow after a run and Big John later finding a nest of that hair. SNOW. Snow at first light when it is just me and my running shoes.

People…Isreal Kamakawiwo’ole’s wonderful world (click this link, trust me).

I need to keep track of these things – these ephemeral joys for a while. To remember.
As much as I logged in the great grievous harms of Houston-time, I must log the ‘Happy’ to remember.

Will I ever be as happy as people seem to think I am? Am I really happier than other people? Will I ever know satisfaction of work well done, remuneration commiserate with output and design/creativity, and the stirrings of first light?

I don’t know, M. I don’t know. But I must first start where I am with what I have.

Birdsong. People around a table. A smiling cup. A slow-to-build trust. Your smile and hand holding mine.

I am not an easy mountain to climb, but the view is both complex and beautiful. Sometimes it is even serene.”

Honesty is rife with derring-do. Cowards and liars hide in the shadows. 
Live with derring-do folks. You and the people who love you are worth all that sometimes-hard and mostly beautiful truth.

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