I confess that I don’t need much any more to be happy… just a few cigarettes, a nice coffee in the morning… even though work is still work, there is painting and art to look forward to in the evenings, books to read and authors to discover, conversations with people who have something worthwhile to say, Beck’s new cd to listen to when you feel like making Lost Causes look like Winning Battles. I suppose expectations are a trap. They complicate things. If you keep solutions simple, then – like confetti – everything else falls into place. And the littlest things come as the biggest surprises in the world.
I suppose it sounds very naive and childish, the above paragraph. But I am starting to feel monuments being built in me and of me, as if I am bigger than who I originally thought I could be. There is space expanding suddenly, space which I want to cram with things that matter, with things that make sense, with things that myself and others can benefit from. There is a feeling of wanting to fill. Or an urgency of ridding the mess I’ve collected over the years.
Maybe we are all grander than we think we are. Maybe we’re all in a hurry to make a mark in the world that we fail to realise that this is our mark, this is our cue, this is the right time to sing and dance, to paint and write, to grow… to get on the bus… and to get off at the correct stop.
This evening reminded me of pinatas, rockets, confetti, fireworks, and balloons falling from skies, hearts being blown out of bodies… Like I said, the monuments are being built, and I do exist, and I thought, yeah… hey, yeah… it doesn’t take much any more to make me happy. It shouldn’t take a lot, for us all.
