What are the odds of finding happiness, Marcus? The real deal, the unadulterated joy, the precipitate from a thousand impossible dreams.
It’s up to you to untangle lilies from moonbeams.
If I lived in a bubble, perhaps. But a constant balancing act between reality and acceptance, a compromise between what is possible and what you settle for, at the outer edge of unhappy- that’s more delusion than happiness.
You could take yourself out of the game, try renunciation and solitude to find meaning and happiness on a faraway mountain perhaps, but the trick is to make peace with the everyday. The mundane, the aches, the pains the successes, the failures.
Find ways to fit in to a framework that you don’t subscribe to. Give away pieces of yourself until whatever is left can no longer tell if it is happy or just unnaturally high on social adroitness. Strangled by friendly moonbeams.
No, figure out the pieces you can give away without losing yourself. Keep the lilies. That’s how you stack the odds.
the naked branch
keeps its secrets
from the nestling snow