A NEW PERSPECTIVE
I know I promised to talk more about synchronicity in my next blog, but random events have made me change direction. ;^)
As readers of this blog have probably discerned, I have been down in the dumps quite often lately. This fact has caused distress which in turn has added to my melancholia. How funny is that? It's all just a vicious cycle. But there is hope, perhaps, on the horizon. I recently found out about a book that may help. Against Happiness is a book that addresses several issues-namely that the pursuit of 'the American dream' (aka happiness) could eventually eradicate melancholia, thereby effecting such things as art, literature, and music. Think about it. What would Van Gogh's art look like if he were happy? Probably lots of fields of big, yellow sunflowers and no starry nights. Would Emily Dickinson have written poetry if she married and had 2.4 children, a house, and a white picket fence?
I have come to the realization that the pursuit of happiness will kill me much sooner than my embracing my sadness. It's not even about finding the little things that make me happy anymore. It has become my need to find more creative releases for the blues that I feel. That's not to say I don't feel at ease sometimes. But focusing on why I was down was consuming me and making me lash out.
The truth I've come to accept is that I can no longer try to make myself happy. The American dream is NOT mine. I don't want children or a husband. I don't care if I own a house or lots of clothes and other stuff. If I'm sad today, that's o.k. If it lasts for a week, so be it. What I want now is to stop dwelling on it and move on.
I'll keep you updated on how this goes. Just know that sometimes this blog may be used as a means of release. If you can stand the rants, read on.
As readers of this blog have probably discerned, I have been down in the dumps quite often lately. This fact has caused distress which in turn has added to my melancholia. How funny is that? It's all just a vicious cycle. But there is hope, perhaps, on the horizon. I recently found out about a book that may help. Against Happiness is a book that addresses several issues-namely that the pursuit of 'the American dream' (aka happiness) could eventually eradicate melancholia, thereby effecting such things as art, literature, and music. Think about it. What would Van Gogh's art look like if he were happy? Probably lots of fields of big, yellow sunflowers and no starry nights. Would Emily Dickinson have written poetry if she married and had 2.4 children, a house, and a white picket fence?
I have come to the realization that the pursuit of happiness will kill me much sooner than my embracing my sadness. It's not even about finding the little things that make me happy anymore. It has become my need to find more creative releases for the blues that I feel. That's not to say I don't feel at ease sometimes. But focusing on why I was down was consuming me and making me lash out.
The truth I've come to accept is that I can no longer try to make myself happy. The American dream is NOT mine. I don't want children or a husband. I don't care if I own a house or lots of clothes and other stuff. If I'm sad today, that's o.k. If it lasts for a week, so be it. What I want now is to stop dwelling on it and move on.
I'll keep you updated on how this goes. Just know that sometimes this blog may be used as a means of release. If you can stand the rants, read on.
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