Today, I mark my 44th birthday. People often wish people happiness or joy on birthdays. For some reason, I am not a fan of these sentiments. They seem sappy and fleeting. It’s the reason why I never make my birthday visible on Facebook. Saying Happy Birthday in some meaningless post once a year does not a connection make. But this year, I’ve found a word for birthdays that I like better than “happy”. I bought a piece of art on it yesterday. When I saw it, I thought … yes, I am in a state of bliss. But not bliss in the way of flower bouquets, or well-wrapped gifts, or lots of facebook posts, or any other such thing. Not a function of fleeting perfectness, this bliss is altogether … rough.
This bliss is enduring. In the ways that writing can mean you run through 100 ideas before you find the one investing more energy in. In the way that you are challenged to be clear about what you care about. In the way the kiddo demands you show the clear boundary so it’s clear you are paying attention. In the way that you form a question, rather than try to pose that you already know the answer. In the ways you trust things will work out even when they are not looking so good right now. Bliss not in the prettiness, but in the roughness. Bliss in the tension of the creative act that is in process, not done. Bliss in the being, not the doing, or achieving.
Or, as Rumi said, where you find it.
“and they asked him, master,
tell us about bliss…
and he smiled as if
within himself, he heard the
angels laughing at the blameless
comedy of human life
bliss, he said, is where you find it…”
Bliss is where you find it. An attitude, not an outcome. Hmm. Yes, that’s what we ought to wish one another. Bliss.
Are you experiencing bliss, too? How so…