No need to think or write.

I wonder. About the nature of happiness. I assume. That I am happy. Though I may be wrong. Because I am ignorant. Of the true meaning of happiness. One can’t be sure. Because I live in a largely undefined world. It’s up to me. To define every and any thing. Happiness, for instance. I look around. At other people. And many of them don’t seem happy. They suffer from the doldrums. Some take pills. And go into counseling. In search of happiness. Perhaps a mythical contentment. Could be. That I am happy. Merely by pondering the meaning of happiness. By writing about it. Thinking about it. Occurs to me. That when I’m not thinking about happiness. I am most happy. I am so busy. Living my happiness. There’s no need to think or write about it. --Jim Broede