That elusive bird of happiness

After posting the last entry hesitations swirled inside my mind like a swarm of bees stinging with unexplainable guilt…of course. Was it fair to have said what I said; wasn’t I too excessive, utterly rude and narrow-minded? Stupid indeed-who’s to know what I write in my personal blog where I’m entitled to say just about anything anyway?; I only say what I think and I don’t say what I think is right. Is it OK my conscience to poke me like that to keep me going straight or am I overdoing again? I’m never sure how much is enough. Anyway, I found myself wondering: if my life was less secure than it is now, if I were less fortunate-would I still be dreaming? True, what I want most of all will never be mine but then again what I want is too obscure to begin with so there will be no broken expectations on my part. My second best and far more specific dream came true about a dozen of times- I saw 11 concerts of my favorite band (What? It’s a dream just as good as any other!). I am aware many people didn’t make it to even one for the simple reason they didn’t have the money. From their point of view gloominess is probably fairly justified. I was lucky that at that particular point in my life my potentials were in harmony with my wishes.

But…money, though essential for sustaining a decent living, are not a universal answer to all needs. I can’t help thinking that other people (maybe not all but a good part of them) have something I want but can not buy even if I had all the money in the world: love, real life, love for life. Do they realize how rich that makes them? Happiness can not be measured, evaluated or compared; it can not be disassembled to see what it’s made of and assembled back again. Maybe one thinks of it only when one doesn’t have it.