The Happiness of Waking
I woke this morning to sunshine, birdsong and the first, faint scents of autumn wafting through my bedroom window. Before I even moved, I felt the warm surge of happiness rising within me, and I lay for several long moments savoring its glow.
No two moments of happiness are alike. It comes in as many forms as there are breaths in the day, beats of the heart. It sounds like music: the splash of water in a sink, the whoosh of passing cars, the soft whisper of air through my nostril as I breathe. It comes in colors and textures and fragrances and tastes, in movement and in stillness. It’s such a sensual thing.
But these are only its wrappings, floating and dancing on its surface like colorful scarves. Beneath them, happiness stretches in silent wonder and flows without name. It’s the breeze that buoys the bright moments, that fills the sensations with beauty and delight. Happiness is the depth beneath the pleasures, infusing them with their power to sing to our emotions, to touch our souls and inspire our minds.
As I lay in bed, enjoying the morning, all I wanted was to gently hold the awareness that the joy I feel comes not from the sensual dance, but from that which lies beneath it, and to stay anchored in that unnamable awareness, allowing myself to sink ever more deeply into its awesome grace.
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