Tagged: growth

Musings at Random – Happiness is a Choice.

Happiness is a choice, and now, more than ever, we should all lean on its shoulders. The world will sometimes break us down, but it’s up to us to rebuild stronger. Brick by brick. Moment by moment, because we can.

What we choose to see, what we choose to believe, and what we choose to project becomes our ethos. We ultimately become what we choose to manifest. Hate life? Watch out – it might hate you back. Hate your job? With that mentality, you’ll never escape the negativity.

And so on it goes, into our relationships, our well being, and our overall mindset. What we choose to think – to believe – directly affects our quality of life. It directly impacts how we live, how we react, who we choose to spend our time with, what we choose to accept and tolerate, and how far we’re willing to go in order to make a change for the better.

You see, happiness is a choice. It’s not a guarantee or a foregone conclusion. And as such, it’s essentially never set in stone; money won’t buy it, good genes won’t cultivate it, and a great job won’t secure it. We do.

And it only happens when we decide to pursue it, embrace it, accept it, live it, project it, and lastly, manifest it.

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Classic Poetry, featuring Henry Howard.

It’s interesting how, despite the passage of centuries, certain sentiments don’t change. Here’s a classic from Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey (1517-1547).

My friend, the things that do attain

The happy life be these, I find:

The riches left, not got with pain,

The fruitful ground; the quiet mind;

The equal friend; no grudge, no strife;

No charge of rule nor governance;

Without disease the healthy life;

The household of continuance;

The mean diet, no dainty fare;

True wisdom joined with simpleness;

The night discharged of all care,

Where wine the wit may not oppress;

The faithful wife, without debate;

Such sleeps as may beguile the night:

Content thyself with thine estate,

Neither wish death, nor fear his might.

Storytime Saturday, featuring an excerpt from an untitled upcoming short story.

Take a peek at this week’s excerpt.  The story is still unfinished, but it’s a small part of a redemptive, soul searching, and ultimately uplifting tale.   Thanks for reading!

I’m not afraid of the dark. It’s there that I can’t be seen. These days, hell…maybe I don’t want to be seen. I’ve spent so much time lingering in that place that it’s comfortable….like an old friend. It knows me and I know it; it understands me more than the light ever did. The light left me, and when it did, the darkness was there to shield me from the cold. And boy, was it cold. 

It’s in the darkness that I can see the clearest. Sounds weird, right? But it’s true…in the darkness, I can see. Clearer than on the brightest, sunniest day…and yet I can’t be seen, at least by the normal, every day people. Night recognizes night. That much is true. Darkness can see darkness. Bleak understands bleak. I ain’t afraid of any dark. 

I think that I am afraid of sunlight though…it’s never truly touched me. I’ve always seen its rays, sure…but I’ve never truly felt it’s warmth. Like a plant that bends and twists and reaches and contorts for enough sunlight to survive…only to wither and brown and retract. It’s not easy to stretch oneself for nothing. There’s less disappoint in the dark. The sunlight is unforgiving to blemishes.    

Storytime Saturday, featuring an excerpt from an as yet untitled piece.

This is intended to be a tale of growth, understanding, and redemption…below is just a snippet.  Check it out if you’d like.  Best of days to all.



I wasn’t worth a damn on paper. In the paper world, the document world, the world of resumes and economic status, I was fucking worthless. Bullshit administrative work here, run of the mill labor there, hum drum office experience way over there…hell, my resume was less than toilet paper. Looking at that bad boy made me question everything. Is this what it had come to? Is this what all the years of busting my ass have amounted to? Jack shit? I may as well have been anonymous. Just another warm body to feed the greedy corporate carnivores. A chalkboard whose teachings had long since been scrubbed clean. 

But clean slates can still educate, right? They can still learn. Clean slates still hold value, however anonymous they are…they can still speak of success. I had to remind myself of that. But I was never successful at anything. Well, failing…I was very good at that. I was successful at failing. Hell, at fucking shit up, I was a professional. The best. I could turn a nugget of gold into a fistful of shit at the drop of a dime. All in a day’s work.