Two strains of wrong both with the appearance of pretty: one, happy and two, busy. Both are drugs to appease something wrong deep within me – acceptance – speaking to the question that dull aches like a pain you learn to live with
Am I okay just the way I am?
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One day I will be happier. We all will be. In the meantime, I spend all I have to reach then, when skies promise stained blue and unthreatened smiles and my shallow heart quits wanting in the abundance of all that will be – when I’m a better man. I long for him and wait to be him. My time is spent working to be better, happier and more settled in who I am.
The idea that there will come a day when I will somehow be a better version of me who’s more successful, wealthier, more fit, more experienced and just overall happier is a diseased reach for something that simply doesn’t exist. We tell ourselves that who we are is simply not enough now and that somewhere out there, one day we will be happier, leading our hearts to roam hungry and unhinged from both now and truth. We miss the simple, yet grounding, reality of a sunrise now, a righted smile despite difficulty, the realization of good now independent of circumstance. It is no different than the beginning in the Garden when man reached out of providence for more. A lie is a lie no matter how old it is. The allure of happy deceives our hearts to think we are not enough until we have it all. The trick is in bringing us to believe that we can get all that we need and setting accusation against God in circumstance affected and influenced by sin welcomed into our world.