Kinney Road, at night

 August 11, 2008 – Raining, again. Happiness is one of those terms often used but rarely considered. It is generally considered a goal in life, sometimes of life, but I’m not so sure. It is technically a state of well being and contentment. Real life is sometimes about that, often not. It is complex, challenging, unpredictable. It is a struggle, and I don’t know of a worthwhile person who does not struggle.
  A friend of mine said recently that he wanted to do what made him happy, and it made me uneasy. Too simple. That, I thought, is a  fantasy, a ticket to disenchantment. I don’t think you set out to be happy, I think you allow it to find you in its own time and way. Like fear, it never travels alone, bringing other emotions and experience with it. That’s the deal.
  For me, happiness is sometimes achievable, but isn’t the point.
  Living my life is the point. I came to this farm about five years ago, for reasons I did not begin to understand at the time, and don’t yet understand. In my time here, I have experienced the greatest happiness and well-being of my life. I am a blessed and fortunate man, lucky in so many ways.
  I have also experienced blizzards and downpours, lightning strikes and hail, frostbite and spinal trouble, Diabetes and concussions, falls and scrapes, bites and cuts, mental illness and loss, confusion and loneliness, exhaustion and disappointment.  I’ve watched the stars rise and shot violent roosters and rabid creatures. And confronted much fear.
   And I’ve had the opportunity to learn, grow and be fulfilled. To teach, learn about animals, write books, blog, walk dogs, do hospice work, her sheep, birth lambs, treat sick donkeys, publish poetry, take photos, make friends,  Become an artist. Get help. Begin to learn who I am, grow up.
  I strive for a spiritual life, to change and do good. What a gorgeous tapestry, taken as a whole.
  Am I happy? I am not even sure what that means and it has little relevance for me, something of a waste of time.
  It seems to me that life is not about happiness, but about a willingness to experience life,
and to some extent, to risk it,  and the things about it that are not necessarily happy or peaceful, as well as the things that are. One comes after the other, each meaningful in its own way.
  I guess I don’t really seek a happy life, just my life.