The Problem with Being Happy

The problem with being happy is that you have time to think.

When you're swimming, when the Yetzer Hora is throwing things at you every which way, you gotta stay in the game. Your equilibrium is shaking, you've got boots in your pants, or pants in your boots, and the race is on. The details are your best friends and your best friends are in the details. The importance in is the periphery, and you're a car, coasting down the highway, using the rear view mirror instead of looking through the windshield. Making excuses because the excuses are being made, pronto-licious.

How easy it is to be distracted with the difficulties in making a living. In making a life. How easy it is to be distracted by the cooking and the cleaning and the laundry...

I cannot spend my days running around in circles.

I cannot not address that ringing within me that says SPEAK.

For if I don't speak it will eat me up inside, this maddening question of the purpose of existence, the desire  to be in the game, to finish off the game.  That FUN that JOY that answers the question of existance without an answer at all, just an obviousness when you're in it. Where's the fun? Run after that too... grab the fruit...

You feel it here, in Israel, in Mar Cheshvan. The sense that the truth is palpable, obvious, that Gd is right there with you, sitting next to you on the couch, looking at you with raised eyebrows.... "Well....." He smiles.

"Well what ?" You mumble, staring off into the computer screen, "Uh huh.. uh huh.."

And there He is, waiting, tapping His finger with the pencil on the ruled notebook paper, waiting for you to tell Him, what is your mission. What is your mission......

Can't it wait? What are the calories on this chocolate bar? How much does this cost? What what...

What is your mission, what is your mission?

The problem with being happy is that you feel Gd so palpably and you can no longer ignore the fact that you are HERE on this EARTH for a REASON and existence is so bizarre and you create a little organism that becomes a BABY and then an adult and it's ridiculous; you know it, He knows it, and there it is.


Where is that soul and what is it screaming ? What does it say? " Not on the periphery... not on the periphery...Within every shell there is the fruit...Grab the fruit.,(Grab the fruit)."

Who's with me?!

BlogMarcy Nehorai2 Comments