Sunday, September 26, 2010


my happiness is like this sand
I let it run out of my hand

John Gould Fletcher

On the way home we pulled over. Joe wanted to visit someone and there was no-one else to visit, so we visited the river.   We found the first warm patch of sand for the season, watched two young ducks bathe in the shallows, and met a few rocks. 

My hunt for tangible, constant, rock-like happiness is ill conceived. Today, I'm thinking of happiness as sandy. It's shifting. There's plenty of it. It gets into everything and anything. It's the product of a watery grinding process.

1 comment:

  1. Lovely post. Such great timing for me to read this.
    I sometimes find myself gripping on so tightly to any piece of happiness that comes my way that I squeeze all essence of joy out of it and I am so busy grasping that I miss all the other wonderful happinesses drifting past me in the meantime.