What if happiness isn’t something we need to work for, chase after, earn, buy? What if happiness is always there but hidden by the other crap of life — some of which is dumped upon us, and some of which is self-inflicted? What if we walk past happiness every day as we go searching for it? What if happiness isn’t a slippery thing out there eluding us but rather something inside us that is too often ignored, dormant, or even suppressed?
The longer I live my simple, uncomplicated nomadic life the more this seems to be true. Happiness doesn’t arrive, it blooms from within.
That’s my deep thought for the day.
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