Happiness is is like a cupcake mould

I came to realise recently that happiness is a continuous process.

By inviting moments that keep us going and make us happy, we’re actually setting ourselves for failure. We’re breaking the cycle of happiness. Because everything that has a start, must have an end. And everything that has an end, takes us back to where we were before (unless we’re 100% conscious moving through this process – which most of us are not – especially when eating ice cream).

The things that give us pleasure have a wave of ups and downs, beginnings and ends, that disturb the continuos process of the happiness that lies beneath. That is the case of a text message from our crush, amazing sex, or shopping, to name a few. And we understand this because we’ve all seen ourselves needing something we didn’t need 5 minutes ago. And that can be a yoga matt, an apple or a pay raise.

And by no means I am saying you should stop having pleasure. Because pleasure makes us feel alive. And feeling alive is  what we want. But feeling alive through pleasure and feeling alive through happiness is not the same thing. Because true happiness can make you feel alive all the time. Pleasure cannot. True happiness is something deeper than pleasure that lies beneath all pleasures. Like a cupcake mould that can be filled in with the most various ingredients. No matter what ingredients you have or don’t have, the mould will always be there.

So make your cupcakes and eat it them too. But don’t trick yourself into thinking that the cupcakes are what makes you happy. What makes you happy is the tool you have to make them.

Even when you run out of sprinkles.

Creative Printer-20141020103457

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Spontaneous Poem au Turkey Sauté

I felt something was coming, so decided to record it while it was happening:

Poema Espontaneo from notjustsomeonelse on Vimeo.

Sabe o que eu quero?

Uma casa com vista para a felicidade.

Nao precisa de ser muita…
Precisa de ser toda.

Nao precisa de ser alta, coberta de ouro.
Precisa de ser coberta de nada.

Nada de mentiras, nada de promessas, nada de falsas esperanças.

A felicidade que eu quero ver,
É a felicidade que existe mesmo de olhos fechados.

Inspira e sente.
Expira e sofre.

Não dá para reter a felicidade dentro de mim.
Dá para flutuar sobre ela.

Fica, vai. Fica, vai.
Então porque não vou eu?

Se alguém tem que ir, prefiro ir eu.
E deixar essa felicidade aqui.

Não é uma decisão difícil.
Não tem outro jeito…

Porque quem inspira, expira.

É essa a casa que eu quero ter.
Uma casa com vista para a felicidade.

Com muros baixos.
Com barreiras invisíveis de uma sociedade que se quer.

Um espelho da minha alma
que reflete todas as estrelas desse universo…

Mesmo aquelas que ainda não aconteceram.