These days it appears I write little. On the contrary, I wrote in a frenzy. I finished 40,000 plus words for a book and now I don’t know what to write. It’s like the thoughts that gave way to that writing burned themselves out. I search for the embers, the flickering spark amongst the dead remains that I could call my words, and find that I can bring none to life. Is it the ennui at work? The sheer boring lethargy of trudging through each day?
I asked a friend of mine the same question and her answer was simple : Happiness is fluid when it is a state of mind. And I think about it. Indeed.
I realized through my struggles at work the past few months that happiness and harmony is the H2O of my life. When either one of these is out of sync, I feel like a disjointed wheel running helplessly on a deserted highway. Sometimes, even that kind of disjointedness can be called freedom. But not when the wheel knows no other paths but straight. Roll on. So I keep searching everyday. And I convince myself everyday too. The moments of happiness are exquisitely brief. My challenge is to find a way to make them stay. Or rather to convince my beleaguered mind that I am. Really. Happy. Or perhaps not. Ach. There I go again.