“Our countries don’t like each other”, I think
as I stare at the photo of a
Middle Eastern woman, head covered in royal blue,
standing outside her one-hundred-square-foot mansion.
“Blessed are the poor.” Blessed indeed! For
such a look of unadulterated bliss I have
never seen – certainly not on the face of
anyone in a top tax bracket.
What reason has she to be so deliriously happy?
What reason has she not to be so deliriously happy?
As she holds a fragrant leaf to her nose, her brain
sends waves of pleasure throughout her being. As the
sun massages her epidermis, a lilting breeze
mothers her aching bones. Beyond words
she senses the Universe loves her because she is
able to register this moment of pure, simple bliss.
Why does happiness have to be complicated?
The Buddha was asked, “Are you a god?
A reincarnation of a god? A wizard?”
He said, “No.”
“What are you then?”
The Buddha replied, “Awake.”
In the unlikely event I am ever asked similar questions,
I hope to simply reply: “Happy.”