I wake up every morning with this little vibration of excitement in my stomach - ready to tackle the world, set new PRs, run a half marathon and conquer all that gets in my way. Then a couple hours go by...
My energy starts to waiver. I start questioning my abilities. I suffer through traffic to get to my day job. By the end of the day I'm exhausted and worn, but still grateful. Traffic on the way home leaves me yawing and ready to climb into bed just to do it all over again tomorrow. Did I do my best? Did I contribute to the world today? Did I look stupid while doing any of it? These are the things that motivate me.
I wish I could bottle that early morning excitement and drink it when I need a lift. I can sometimes find that excitement in a cup of coffee or the soft crunch of fall leaves under my feet. Mostly these days I wish that excitement could be found in those moments when I feel like I have NO idea what I'm doing.
Over the weekend, Damema and I cleared out a bunch of books we've accumulated through the years. There were so many books of mine devoted to finding happiness. The thing is... I am happy. Very happy. No book told me how to find it either. I donated those books in hopes though that they can fill a void for someone, like they did for me, until their "thing" comes along.
The point here is that though I'm happy, I still have a cyclical pattern that leaves me questioning. I used to think happiness was a destination. It is really an overall state of being, an undertone - a constant background noise. It's the lens filtering the view. People have been writing about this stuff forever, and I've been reading about it but until my view changed, it was all just words.
