“When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down ‘happy’. They told me I didn’t understand the assignment, and I told them they didn’t understand life.”
― John Lennon
I am with John. When I was a kid I did not think about what I wanted to be. I never thought about how to get from here………….to there.
I did not consider bills, or stress, or even hardship, though, I was very aware of these things (painted as they were on the faces of my parents) whenever the phone rang and they made me answer and say they were not home (Did my mother not see the hole in that logic considering that I was a little kid and saying my parents were not at home? Yeah, cause you know my mum and dad leave me home all the time at age 5. Yup yup…alllll the time. Cause I am a badass ninja kid with major monster killing skillz….NOT)
I was aware of poverty, I just did not think it would get in my way. I had other things, IMPORTANT THINGS, to think about. Like, what would people think about me when I was no longer little? Would they remember me being there? Should I write a letter and hide it under a really, really big rock for someone to find one day? Did that message in a bottle thing really work? What if it wasn’t a real glass bottle? Would a soda bottle do with crayon and shaky handwriting as the content? Would magical creatures find it and come visit?
While my parents were terribly worried about paying for life, I was busy wanting to make my mark on mine, you know, just in case.
I am still that way. I still want to tell people who I am, what I think, and what I see. I am not particularly vain, and I don’t really care if anyone answers, (though, I am totally excited when they do) the thing is…I am just expressing for the love of well…being allowed to express it, I guess. I love laughing out loud and knowing that I am the only one who really notices or cares if I am. I love to be alive and I love, almost to the point of being kinda weird, my own company.
I was once teased by a co-worker for saying my idea of a great job (as apposed to a good career which is a completely different story) would be a job full of repetition that doesn’t require much concentration and has no real danger if it slips, because that kind of job allows me to think deeply while I am working. I like to think more than anything. I like to just let my mind wander its pathways and meander forth with no real idea where I want to go, or need to, for that matter. I get a lot of what I consider work done when I do this kind of thinking. Ideas come. Solutions. Forgiveness and comprehension. I solve my problems or accept my mistakes. I even, from time to time, meet and marry and die…all in the span of one inner conversation with the things my brain decided it wanted to share with me.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be happy. I wanted to be myself and be accepted for that person. I did not need others to do that, I just needed me to do it and I did, and I do. Sometimes other concerns come along and made me do that fretting and worrying thing that my parents use to do. Sometimes things happened to me. Things that made me cry, or fear, or hide. Then I would have to seek the right within myself to like me again once that thing that happened, was no longer happening. To be happy. To accept myself. The happiest moments of my life have always come, when I let myself do that, accept my me-ness, I mean, because then, to my immense joy and pride. I would then be able to extend that right to others around me.
Let me be happy and I will let you be happy. I will accept you even if you are weird, or smell funny, or listen to that Yanni guy. If you can get past my habit of talking to myself, and my need to always explain myself for fear of not being explainable, and you promise, with your whole heart, to accept people for being themselves too. Well, then I am proud to accept you. So long as you do that one simple thing I expect myself to do…be happy. If you are not happy…then I am going to bug you. I am going to annoy you. I am going to poke you with a stick and make you listen to me as I rant at you.
Because, the thing is..when you grow up..you really, really,really just want to be happy.
You might want to write that down on a piece of paper and repeat it over and over again until you understand better.
Mostly because if you are not happy right this moment…then you are being stupid. Being happy means giving it to yourself.
Give yourself happiness. Accept you.
because one day you are going to die.
and when you do
wouldn’t you like to say
you were happy?
Time to grow up.