a happy place
November 22nd, 2004 by boon
I miss my childhood. I miss the days where there were long dreamy afternoons and endless pages of origami books. I miss afternoon naps. I miss sleeping on the bus for the ride home, though i could’ve walked home faster. Was it good? I dunno. But I enjoyed not having to work.
What pains me in my dreary routine? Is it the lack of life these walls exude, the drab carpets and low hum of the central airconditioning? or the senseless, directionless toil of work… the agony of having to do things over and over again, or head into ventures complex and uncertain. Or the incongruence of one’s life compared to the present day…. dare I explain it away with ambient paradoxes, circumstantial lip-service, or moralistic code?
Would it really be better if I had a room with a view? Maybe I should work in Sweden. I could probably buy myself a house, cut out a section with a glass-paned wall, and plant trees and a tiny lake filled with exotic fish. Would that help?
Would it be better if I only sold services I want to give, make products I want to build, publish books I want to write? Would it be better if I didn’t need the money? I could grow fruits and plants and live off the blessings of the land. How would that work? Would that make me satisfied?
In my heart of hearts is probably where I should start. I could paint there, a bright light shining. I would imagine happy people around it, and the wind blowing. In this place I’d take my refuge. I’d recount good memories. Speak to Goodness. Write on the walls. Jump in the skies. I’d be human and yet be more. All at once.