Chapter 2: Happiness: 11/15/16
4:13 am, Brampton, ON.
The happiest man alive, a great song by Machel Montano: https://youtu.be/na5eNkT21Ds.
First introduced to this song by a friend during our drive to work. It was considered her pump up song. I can see why, the jam is upbeat. It’s soothing. And it just puts a smile on your face.
Listening to the words, is a beautiful compilation of thoughts and expression. Which bears thought to this entry. Happiness.
Life is such a beautiful art, subjective to interpretation. Happiness is a feeling that just feels good. We’ve all been hit with things that aren’t the greatest ideals. Which begs to question: What makes us happy?
Is it a choice? Or influenced by external factors? To think about it, chemical reactions create our experience. Is there a spot in our brain, or our body that makes us feel good? Not necessarily a physical high, but a high based on fulfilment. A sense of wonder and awe. A sense of gratification and appreciation.
As I sit here reminiscing the times of greatness in my life, I also appreciate the times of growth. Death of a family. Almost dying myself about three times too many. Close encounters and horrific events. Yet, still grateful and blessed to be here.
Positivity. I’ve always had an optimistic look at life. Even when my grand mom (we called her Lola) passed away, I couldn’t help but appreciate the times we had and the guidance she gave me while growing up. I still dream about her from time to time.
Last night, I had a dream that woke me up and had me thinking for a second that she was there right with me. And with my belief system, she most likely was.
My dream. I was in a car with my cousins and brother. And my Lola was sitting in the passenger seat with me. She was always smiling, laughing. And for that split moment I felt that energy, that love and passion that she has always given our family.
Growing up was never really a struggle, we live in Canada. Or maybe it was, but we made the best of it? I don’t know. But I do know, that having her there with me while my parents would go to work was always a blessing.
Memories. It’s amazing how while writing this down. The memories of her come flooding through my mind gate, so fast that even my fingers can’t even keep up to speed. Yet it is all flashing before my eyes, and invoking such a nostalgic and warm feeling that tears can’t help but drip and dry. A feeling of happiness? Love? Oh the human body, how there is so much to learn.