Peak Solitude— At West End Gallery
I have a firm belief in this now, not only in terms of my own experience, but in knowing the experiences of other people. When you follow your bliss, and by bliss, I mean the deep sense of being in it and doing what the push is out of your own existence—it may not be fun, but it’s your bliss and there’s bliss behind pain too.
– Joseph Campbell, The Hero’s Journey
We throw the word happy around a lot, usually without much thought. But how do we really define happiness for ourselves?
It certainly can’t be a one-size-fits-all proposition, right? Your happiness may not be mine. In fact, there is happiness out there that saddens and maddens me. For example, those who find a level of joy and contentment in their greed and cruelty. We won’t focus on them today.
For myself, though I use the word often, I try to think more in terms of happiness and bliss. Happy is a temporary thing, something that visits like a pleasant guest that comes and brightens you day for a short time then abruptly leaves. If we’re lucky, it sometimes has an extended stay. But it always feels like a visitor. Something on the outside that comes easily and breezily.
Bliss, on the other hand is something that becomes part of you. Something that places demands on you, asks for sacrifices, requires enduring discomfort and even pain before giving its gift to you. You have to put in the work, bleed and struggle a little, to know bliss.
As Joseph Campbell says above, it may not be fun, but it’s your bliss and once you have realized it, the pain that it took to get there seems precious and blissful in itself.
I have been fortunate to know both happiness and bliss. I like happiness. No doubt about it. But I don’t expect much from it. Happy is the easy. breezy way but I know it will bail on me once the going gets rough.
Bliss, on the other hand, is a loyal companion that makes the rough patches endurable, telling you that there is sunshine on the other side of the clouds if you just hold tight and true to yourself. Bliss is a guide to the top of the mountain, one that tells you to keep your eyes on the path ahead and to keep moving.
Bliss is a reassuring smile in a storm.
As always, I am leaving at a point when much more could be said. Oh, I want to write more. Just short on time this morning. Actually, I’m a bit surprised this came out. I sometimes freeze up a bit when I am so time-limited here.
But at least there’s something to chew on this morning. And that makes me happy.
Or does it? I don’t know anymore.
Here’s song that makes me both happy and blissful. I share it about once a year and on those days, I replay it numerous times. It just hits the spot for me. This is a remake from horn player Takuya Kuroda of the 1976 song, Everybody Loves the Sunshine, from jazz artist Roy Ayers. The original is great, but I personally prefer Kuroda’s remake. I think what I take away from it is that while everybody loves the sunshine– it’s a love that comes easy– the blissful know that the clouds will soon come to block the sunshine and that’s alright because their bliss is still there.
Happy in the sunshine, blissful in the rain.
I confess, ‘bliss’ is a state I’ve never hankered after. For me, it seems to imply non-engagement with life: being freed from the messiness of life’s realities. Even Campbell’s definition seems unnecessarily tortured: the sort of redefining of a term that might have suited him, but doesn’t suit me at all.
I think a lot of this comes in our interpretation of the word bliss. I tend to see it in this context as a form of contentment that comes in a life path that gives your existence meaning and purpose, one that aligns with our own in a way that we no longer question our choice of that path. As though we have been given a mission that is ours alone. Just my opinion.