I can think of nothing to write. My mind is blank, my thoughts noticeably absent. Oh, I could still talk, of course. I could fill this void with fancy words sounding profound while meaning nothing, they might give the emptiness a convincing cover. But, visible or not, the fact remains: I have nothing to say on the subject of happiness motivating … my own experience.
Have I experienced acting, creating, designing something that has not been done before not to address a need, not to relieve pain, not to heal suffering, but because I was happy? Have I developed, organized or given life to an unknown thing, or a way, or a being that was nothing more and nothing less than an expression of my joy?
Now that I ask, I see that I have. I tried to think at first of a project, of a thing, and I could see none. But now that I ask, I see I was looking in the wrong places.
I have indeed designed something that has never been seen before. I have created something out joy and happiness. Yes, there was trauma at first, but only once healed I could have built what I have built, and make it original and unique and unlike anything else ever made:
my life.
