passions, psychobabble

That Happy Place

A monument in The Land Called Happy

A couple of months ago, I remember blog-hopping and coming across a blog called “In the land called Happy…” If I remember correctly, the blogger was describing–with such poetic imagery, if I may add–her search for the happy place that she once knew existed. I even left a comment there. I had said, “If you ever find that place again, do draw us a map.”

Back then, I was thinking of this management fable “Who Moved My Cheese?” written by Dr. Spencer Johnson, in which cheese was used as a metaphor for all the things that we want in life, the acquisition of which, we believe, will make us happy. I figured, if I were Hem, the miniature person who adamantly refused to get into the maze to search for new cheese (because Hem was hell-bent on analyzing who moved his old cheese),” perhaps the blogger would be my Haw. Maybe, just maybe, she would post the instructions how to get to The Land called Happy, the same way that Haw wrote on the walls of the maze (just in case Hem would decide to find his way into the labyrinth).

I should have known better.

I don’t say that out of bitterness because the blogger didn’t get back to me (and several other Happy-seekers). I say that because I’ve known something important all along, something relevant to the search, and yet, I made such a request. I know that The Land Called Happy can never be found by those who HAVE TO search for it. Not that it doesn’t exist. Oh, it does, it does. It is just hiding in plain sight, like when I couldn’t find the rice cooker cover until I looked in the cupboard where we keep all the cooking pots.  It took me a third search before I managed to “see” it. The cover had always been there, but since it didn’t stand out, I didn’t see it right away.

I realize that I am surrounded by so many lands called Happy. I am IN one; sometimes, I just forget to see it that way.

In college, a wise freshman guide had said, “Happiness is a state of mind.” If you consider yourself happy, then you are. It’s not pretense; in fact, it is the anti-lie. You make a choice to be happy. If you are constantly on the lookout for something extraordinary, something that stands out from the routine poetry of life, you’re looking at the wrong map. I have recently made a decision to get rid of my encore  mentality, or looking forward to life only for the next big event, the next degree, the next trip, the next love. I no longer think, “Okay, I’ve already accomplished this… Applause, applause… I’d be happy again once I cross out the next item on my list.”

NO. Enough already. I’m not stunting my progress, but I decide to stay happy even in the periods of in-between. I am filing my application for residency in The Land Called Happy.

Interestingly, when I tried to go back to that blog, it’s no longer there. Either she has found a piece of property on a new Land, realized that she’s already lives in one, or she has given up on finding The Land Called Happy. I hope, for her sake, that it’s the first two. Also, I hope that she finds her way to my blog and get the message.

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