If you lose your money – great God, don’t you lose your mind …
Today I hear Eric Clapton’s voice echoing through my mind in a brand-new way. Since I have decided to be happy – all joking aside – the pall of the ‘08 crisis begins lifting from my innermost being where it has been knotted up in places I didn’t even realize. Our house is on the market, and I’m more than okay with relocating to a smaller dwelling. It’s just that I’ve allowed the pressure of monthly obligations to wring me out like a pair of sweat-soaked socks, ignoring just how fetid and dry I’ve become. At the same time, I remain thirsty for the juice of human goodness and decency – and for once, I feel as though I’m receiving more than I’m giving out. A wellspring of gratitude percolates beneath the surface like a bright clutch of shimmering fish waiting for the tide to sweep them into deeper, bluer waters.
Like manna on desert sands, happiness beckons. And it’s no mirage. Joy is at least as palpable as fear, and given the choice, I am determined to discover how imbuing that feeling will play out. For years I have been highly suspicious of perennially sunny folk, especially while detecting strain around their eyes and in the purse of their mouths; knowing that what they say and how they act (and often react) doesn’t really seem to match. Thus I surmise that somehow they are trying to fool the world. (When and how is it my business to disabuse them of their theories? Haven’t I advised clients in the past to fake it ‘til they make it?
Now I am saying to hell with it – might as well give ‘er a try, myself – a sort of experiment in lightheartedness. Because the alternative is not attractive and I’m tired of feeling low and flat like a mechanic’s dolly wheeled beneath every damn thing, examining its underbelly for flaws. To what purpose and end I have executed this little exercise for some years now, I cannot immediately render, nor is there apparent or plausible justification. I only know that it’s time for a change, and I am ready to embrace it.