Shiawase 幸せ- It's the Japanese term for happiness.
But my interpretation of this happiness is not the giddy feeling of overwhelming ecstasy. Instead it is more like a lying down in the field, looking up at the sky, watching clouds float by while being aware of your beating heart - kind of feeling. You know, the kind where your heart is filled with gratefulness towards the universe, simply because of the existence of this very moment.
It probably takes years of living, breathing, dreaming, failing, falling and restarting to get to such a moment, and will definitely take more of the same to recreate another similar instant. But when in such a moment, a smile escapes you, in spite of this understanding, I guess you can call it happiness?
I have always been a coward when it comes to this flavour of this particular emotion. Always insecure that admitting something like this would open me up to pain and hurt. I am not sure when in life I became so protective about myself and why, but it felt as if it is taboo or a vulgar state of mind.
But the fact that today I simply allowed myself - in fact I didn't even have control over it, so cannot say "I allowed it" - to feel this way, and say it out aloud without running away from it - probably means something.
But my interpretation of this happiness is not the giddy feeling of overwhelming ecstasy. Instead it is more like a lying down in the field, looking up at the sky, watching clouds float by while being aware of your beating heart - kind of feeling. You know, the kind where your heart is filled with gratefulness towards the universe, simply because of the existence of this very moment.
It probably takes years of living, breathing, dreaming, failing, falling and restarting to get to such a moment, and will definitely take more of the same to recreate another similar instant. But when in such a moment, a smile escapes you, in spite of this understanding, I guess you can call it happiness?
I have always been a coward when it comes to this flavour of this particular emotion. Always insecure that admitting something like this would open me up to pain and hurt. I am not sure when in life I became so protective about myself and why, but it felt as if it is taboo or a vulgar state of mind.
But the fact that today I simply allowed myself - in fact I didn't even have control over it, so cannot say "I allowed it" - to feel this way, and say it out aloud without running away from it - probably means something.
And this 'something' is probably nothing too big or small; it simply is a semicolon in the passage of my life.
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