I am suffering from Multiple Goal Crashing Syndrome.
Head is hurting, eyes are closing themselves into a dark empty space that people call naps, every muscle aches like it’s been wronged. There is a general sense of weakness that surrounds my brain when I have to focus and stay on the course. I hear they call it distraction. I started out the year with multiple goals, and chasing happiness through all of them, and added one more as we rolled. Gardening. Result? Now I am overexposed and underwritten, between gardening and writing.
There were weeds in my garden. Not the banned ones, but the ones that you wish were banned. The plum and peach dwarfs have lost all their leaves and look ugly. No, they are not fooled like the Jasmine plant by the weird weather. They know it’s not Spring, and they haven’t sported any blossoms, or even leaves yet. I bought new planters because I loved them, but now I need to buy plants that I can love. It is hard work, this gardening, even if you are garden is as big as the Master bedroom.
I haven’t stopped writing. In fact, I have written twenty thousand words. Unfortunately, they are not about chasing happiness. I am chasing a rainbow. No, I am not writing a book under that title. Kathleen Long already did that, and did a good job at that. I meant to say, I am searching for that happy space between the rain and sun. I am searching for the spectrum of fantasies, replete with the pot of gold at the end.
It has stopped raining where I live.
The sun and the weather force me out of my room to head out with the family to the happiest place on earth. Happiest place on earth lies somewhere within twenty feet of where you are standing when your head is filled with ideas of all sorts, including installation of keyless entry to your front door, but happiness is not solitary. Happiness needs company, and happiness is a derived state of mind, mine mostly derived from my family.
I drag my feet and join in the fun, getting on to rides that make you go round and round, and waving my hands at the Princesses and Princes that don’t get tired of it at all. I sat there observing Minnie Mouse signing autographs and giving hugs for almost twenty minutes, and I wondered how hard it must be to do that. Dressed in something very uncomfortable, you stand there, wave at everyone who waves at you, and greet the children who lined up to see you politely, and react lovingly to their hugs, and pose for a picture. It doesn’t matter if you are hot, if you are not in a mood to be around with so many people.
“Let the memories begin” says the tag line for the happiest place.
My memories began when we took our first daughter to Disney, to meet Pooh bear. I never fell in love with a character or a person so much that I wanted to go give them a hug and tell them how much they meant to me. That was my first introduction to freedom of expression. When we moved to the lala land, we took her to the happiest place every weekend, until she got tired of it. That was my first introduction to derived happiness. Amongst all the noise, and the parade of pink and purple, I found happiness in her happiness. When I took the little one for the first time, she barely cared for anything other than me. She was only a few weeks old, and the mother’s loving embrace mattered more to her than a Princess’s dramatic proper hug. As she grew up, the story book characters coming to life have interested her more though.
As I ride the bus from the parking lot to the parks, I notice these teenage kids riding with us. Barely thirteen or fourteen, they make up the eaves dropping heaven for me. It’s the mirror into future. They talk about boys, boys and more boys. Parents, siblings, or even other girls don’t find a mention in these conversations. I wonder if my own days of riding a bus with my kids to the park are numbered. Then I wonder if my own days of being a central part of their conversation are numbered. Memories will begin every year, fresh and new with the new year at Disney, but I will start fading out. First there will be boys, and friends, then boyfriends, and then their own lives.
I laugh at the simulation of future, and promise myself to not to that again, not because it’s scary, but because it’s far far away. The children are still children, and I am still the center of their universe. Happiness can be derived from them for the next few years to come, I am sure, and then it will be all about finding it in fixing a new lock set on the door, or sitting in my garden planning a color scheme, careful deadheading spent flowers. I tell myself to keep life underwritten, overexposed, but overly experienced.
Happiness today is about deriving it from the people we love, at the right time.
Happiness today is enjoying Multiple Goal Crashing Syndrome, and adding more to the list, paving your way to a bigger crash and better burn.