“The Work of Happiness.”

In a poem, May Sarton writes her thoughts on what happiness is.

Titled “The Work of Happiness,” the first two lines of the first stanza, followed by the first line of the last stanza, gives you all the context needed to understand it:

“I thought of happiness, how it is woven

out of the silence in the empty house each day…

For what is happiness but growth in peace…”

To which, I’m impartial towards her poem.

I’m impartial because I believe there’s truth in this poem, though, in its entirety, it’s consists of half-truths.

When it comes to happiness, everyone has their own knowing’s on how to find it.

Given my profession and dissonance-littered habits, I’m aware of how easy it is to be mislead into searching or escaping into that thing that washes you in euphoria.

When, in actuality, nothing will ever truly give it to you, per say.

I believe you must find it, seeking it out like unearthing precious stones and gems.

Though back to May Sarton’s poem, growth in peace in a silent empty house is a way to reflect and validate your happiness, not a place where you’ll find it.

My thought is that Sarton is correct, but there’s a required polarity, let’s call it.

Like yin and yang and iron magnets, the polarity between reflecting upon and creating those happy moments are a must.

Nor can they be separated.

Because, for what are the true happinesses that occur around us if we simply choose not to remember them?

Alas, I digress.

— George