“Until the lion learns how to write, every story will glorify the hunter.”

– African Proverb

 “Through the narrow, dark tunnels, she ran. Her gaze was skewed as her glance violently darted back and forward; up and down. There were flickers. Light. Or was it gold? She didn’t stay long enough to distinguish. She was searching. Hunting. It was a pursuit. She climbed up the cave wall. It was dull – damp – dark.

 She was racing. She felt the mud on her hands and knees. She tried to rub them clean, but it only spread the muck. Another flicker. Was that light? She felt the warmth of the water. No time to look down. It was elation and emptiness all rolled into one. She knew what was to come. The fire. The flood. The open spaces, laced with tunnels. She ran…”

I blinked and suddenly realised it had been a whole 9 months since I wrote for myself. In that time, there hasn’t been any dark wells or bottomless pits. Just questions. Tunnels. Richness and emptiness. Fullness and loneliness. The thrilling and the ordinary. Tired. Bored. Restless. I’ve been searching, again, for something. Could it be happiness?

I did a quick google search, “what is happiness”. The words jumped out on the screen.

happiness

ˈhapɪnəs/

noun

1. the state of being happy.

“she struggled to find happiness in her life”

Struggled. She struggled to find happiness in her life. It hit me. Is the pursuit of happiness killing us?

“She ran. This was as much as a chase, as it was a pursuit. She was running after it, but also running from it. The echoes called behind her; “you don’t belong here. You’re doing it wrong.” She’d turn, glimpse back and then run faster. The trudging footsteps muffled the reverberations from behind. But fatigue set in, often, and the trail was getting tedious. It was the same old fire, leaving fresh new scars each time. The same flood waters rising and receding. The same curving, muddy tunnels.

Then she noticed. It was a flicker of light. Or maybe it was gold. But suddenly, the two little sets of prints, struggling to keep up, illuminated. By now, she was exhausted. Flooded by the emptiness and loneliness. The pursuit of happiness was a never-ending chase. She stopped and sat in the words as they finally consumed her; “What are you doing? You don’t belong here.” But the screaming echoes she’d been desperate to escape, soon became a faint whisper.

He tugged on her arm, “mummy, you can’t stay here.”

There was mud on their hands and knees. They didn’t seem to care. They were completely unaware of the darkness. So she stopped running and walked for a while. She’d finally slowed down enough to notice the flicker of light visiting more often. She would see it brighten their faces with intrigue. A spark of joy. The light faded, but the feeling lingered, a little longer each time.

And together, they’d climb through the tunnels. She started becoming aware of the details on the walls that she hadn’t noticed before. The sounds. The smells. She breathed. She started leaving her own markings on the walls. I was here. She started to become less aware of the mud on her hands and knee; less aware of the darkness, dampness and dullness. She’d sometimes hear an echo call behind her; “you don’t belong here. You’re doing it wrong.” But she’d stop and let it catch up to her until her truths spoke louder.

But soon there would be fire, but this time, she revealed to them her own scars, told them her stories and showed them how best not to get burnt. “I’ve been here before.”

And when the waters rose, she held them high and taught them how to swim. She reassured, “the waters will move. I’ve seen it before.”

And sometimes she’d just stare at the mud. She’d stare into the darkness and feel the damp. But she’d never stay there.

She still didn’t know where she was going, but she finally knew what she was doing. And if she looked long enough, the light (or was it gold?), could be found everywhere she went. She now had the knowing that one day, the tunnels and fires and waters, will be left to navigate for those she once walked with….

and she wondered, “have I left more gold than I have mud?”

 I’m so tired of this pursuit of happiness. It’s fleeting and tasteless. I haven’t mastered the practice, but I’m seeking for each day to show me purpose. Happiness will not complete us, but just maybe, in the pursuit of purpose, there you will find your gold.

“Wherever your heart is, there you will find your treasure.” – Matthew 6:21