Now I realize I’ve been longing for rain for a few days (maybe more?). As clouds started to gather this afternoon, I grew aware of some increasing activity in a latent system of indefinite flows. The only thing I could pin down was one that surfaced as a kind of promise of – yeah, I know how this sounds, but… – liberation. And as I heard the first drops, I believe I was… happy. Burst out on the balcony, smiled to the cloudy sky (or rather beyond it), and insatiably sniffed the windy air enriched with tiny particles of water and earth. I’ll circle away from the radiating subterranean point, suffice -- coward! -- to say I reckon it wasn’t my lungs that needed the deep intake of freshness.
As I first felt an earthquake (somewhere in the ‘90s), I got undeniably happy. At the time, trying to rationalize on it, I thought it’s because I’ve missed the bigger quakes in ’77 (sleeping) and ’86 (not in Bucharest), and probably got curious. And then forgot all about it. Until stumbled over somebody else’s – Gellu Naum, a Poet – account of such an experience. He was happy, too. He said something – and the following words are just a combination of my memory and interpretation of his words, I’ll try to find the passage at some point – about some sort of proof of the unreality of our cozy little realities.
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loved "some facets of happiness". happiness comes in so many different shapes and forms. I wonder about the changes in defining a particular state of mind. I could be happy now because i'm listening to some nice music and yet, if I move my attention from the music to the reality of having a broken tooth I can say I'm deeply unhappy. But how can I be unhappy now when the initial source of my happiness is still here a.i. lovely music. Does this mean we are happy and unhappy all the time, it is just a matter of what thought we choose to bring forward? Does it mean we have a choice?
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