People think that happiness
is something you stumble open,
a shimmering, hidden treasure
in an antique teacup or under
the rug in the foyer. Something
to be searched for, like an item
in a scavenger hunt, wedged
between "a picture of a statue"
and "a four leaf clover."
Happiness is a sculpture, a
work of heart that you fashion
with your bare hands, up to
your elbows in clay and dust
and sweat, running your hands
over the rough edges, cutting
yourself on your own passion.
Happiness is something you
labor over for days and months
and years, fixing, polishing,
reshaping, revisiting. You are the
designer of your own happiness.
Take up your chisel and create.














Comments
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I'm not short -- I'm gravitationally enhanced. But if I WAS short, I'd be the coolest short person you'd ever see!
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Ilost my license cuz i cant drive a log!
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