Tag Archives: happiness

Market

Sometimes I feel like I’m almost invisible. The world is transacting around me and I am there, in my bubble, untouched by the commerce of life.

Get your friendships here. How about a lovely bit of bonding. Who fancies a nice little chat. They buy and sell their time, love and care like market traders but I never quite feel that the offer is aimed at me.

Here in Cambodia, I am used to not understanding. My life is lived in one language, while daily life is transacted all around me in another. The protocols and customs are based in a culture that I understand only superficially. I know that I miss messages and mix messages. Yet, my life has always felt as if I am somehow apart from culture rather than a part of it. The lonely otherness of the traveller is second nature on the Asperger Path.

I enjoy the market place. The overload to the senses is a shock but life, even observed from a bubble, is marvellous in its mess. So I will buy my bits and pieces and play my role. I’ll take a small smile and a bunch of happy being me, please.

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Losing

I lose myself sometimes. Within that loss I find another me. Forgetting all my traits, I just exist. The bubble is takes me high and then, pop, the euphoria dissipates and I am my real self again.

But oh, those moments lost in music. The rhythm takes me gently before I take the rhythm and we counterpoint on the floor. The music mutates in my head and my body expresses itself without thought.

I feel a smile on my face and it spreads like the sweat on the back of my shirt. Delirious, I care about neither, I just want to consume the music and expel the joy that is swelling inside me. I am alone among a thousand people. Unaware, I dance for and by myself.

An hour can pass or sometimes two before the magic is lost. A different beat brings a sudden reawakening of my self consciousness and I am left, old and sweating. The man who lost himself suddenly finds himself surrounded and the jarring lights of reality are an unwelcome illumination of the scene.

Reality is where I live and I am mired in it, but isn’t he also real. That man who syncopates the floor with his feet and draws heaven to the earth with his arms is not a fantasy. He is just ecstatically lost, lost in the music, lost in his mind and found in the moment.

To be

That week. That week that was. That awful week that was endured. It lies behind me now. Not thrown away like trash, for life is a cycle. I have recycled those lessons that I have learnt from all those weeks endured behind me. Neatly stacked the weeks are placed into months into years into decades. My life that was and still is.

Lessons learned and relearned. Difficulties, over and over, then overcome as I strive for more. I want more compassion to exercise and more resilience to flex for this grimy life, whilst a far remove from hell, is no heaven.

This old man is still alive and my what a life I am having. Knocked and bumped, but only because I am living on the high octane of reality, unsedated and fully conscious. I will come to land some day but my past so neatly archived and so carefully recorded will always be behind me, giving my future, however time limited it might be, full screen. The future is always there. Unknown and daunting yet I rush forward, still a fool with my lessons to learn. One day I might be one of those angels with their divine wisdom, but not today, for they are already dead. My life was, but still is and is hopefully yet to be.

Tale of the City

I have talked so much about changing, I don’t think I actually noticed it happening. Yet, last night, I left a bar early, and sober, and with the same man that I had arrived with. There was a time when that didn’t happen.

For some years now, I have argued that there has been precious little temptation in my path, and that has been what’s kept me on the ‘straight’ and narrow. I can’t claim that here, for I now reside in dirty Phnom Penh with its edgy nightlife and minimal regulation. In the big bright lights and small dark bars, alcoholic ex pats mingle with drug dealing locals to produce a nightlife where everything is available, and everyone has a price.

I don’t know if I am growing up or growing old. In fictional 70s San Francisco, Armistead Maupin’s character, Mona had a law that stated “you can have a hot job, a hot apartment and a hot lover but you can’t have all three at the same time.” I don’t know if mine would qualify as “hot” but I like what I have. I hope Mona’s more content these days too.

At fifty, I am coming into my own. Because I am happy in my skin, my glass is far more than half full. So, if you think you need to change, change. Life should be an amazing place in which to live. If yours isn’t currently, then find the source of your discontentment and resolve it. We live long lives even if we only live then once. Don’t live it in misery, for happiness can be found everywhere, even in dirty Phnom Penh.

Winning Ticket

Her blue jacket is beautifully graphic and I lose myself for a moment. The lines of white and grey intersect, forming squares within endless squares to consider and reconsider. Her face, though equally lined, is softer, less mathematical. It’s human. Life has been witnessed, lived and ultimately survived with a quiet dignity.

Having dismounted from an ancient bike, which is possibly older her, she passes through the early morning coffee drinkers. Each is addressed with a low, gentle voice and an open smile. Few refuse this woman, for her poise and grace starkly highlight that life can be far from fair.

Finally, she comes to me. Her smile becomes a soft chuckle and there is an impish, mischievous glint in her eyes. Unlike her back, her spirit is unbowed. She offers me her lottery tickets, fanned out for my perusal. We both know I don’t really understand what she is selling and that I don’t speak the language. However, she chooses to include me in her day and as she looks directly into my eyes I see the kindness of one who has known what it means to be left out.

She remounts her bicycle and cycles away but she has left me behind, knowing that happiness isn’t found in a winning ticket.

Through the Cracks

When you first meet him, his happiness shines through the cracks and scars of a careworn face. He works hard and lives well in this life he has built. Things were very different once and beneath his scratched surface there is still a shadow of darkness.

He had been dead for years. Unhappy with himself he fulfilled his own prophecy and became a loser. Once lost in hazes of his own destruction, he got high and then higher until one day he realised that he was lower than he ever thought possible. Rage, sadness and loathing had been numbed in toxic gutters until he choked in his own filth.

Now he is born again. This man found redemption in himself. He fell in love but didn’t change for someone else. He looked within and saw the bitter reality of what he had become, but also he saw his the glimmering vestige of his own hope. In loving another, he realised he could be better. And so, step by painful step, he changed into a man that he wanted to be, kind, content, sober. Once transformed he fought for, and won the heart he desired

Just now and then you see through the cracks. The profound sadness and dark anger will never completely disappear. Life can change and heal but it leaves livid scars. Scarred he may be, but he is longer scared for he carries the marks of a survivor, a fighter, a winner.

Fallin’ free

Sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith. Something or someone happens and you, for some reason, decide it’s an avenue you want to pursue.

Life is quite a journey. Birth is followed by education, work, love, rest and death. This mortal coil spins faster as we age, and most of us are far too merry to get off. The Asperger Path has been a happy, but somewhat more disorderly, route through life’s conventions.

Actually, I took a detour long ago, and discovered life could be neither straight or narrow. I broadened my mind, loosened my inhibitions, and allowed myself to be open to opportunity’s knock. I have lived in kinky meanders and loved with spacious permissiveness.

It’s time to leap and faith is my parachute and . If I land safely, I will let you know.

Ooooh. Fallin’ free, fallin’ free, fallin’ free, fallin’ free

Donna Summer is on repeat in the juke box of my mind. It’s time for some free falling because I feel love, conventional, old fashioned, ‘you and me’ love.

Of Things, Great and Small

There was much talk of great things. Impressive plans were made and yet, somehow, they were not implemented. Awesome ideas were placed on a shelf and never got dusted off.

Those grand designs, so perfect and precise, did not become part of my life. The life I lead is messy. It is busy and crowded, full of a million small things but that is how my life is lived. The devil may be in the detail but so am I. Work is done, clothes are washed, groceries are purchased and life slips by in insignificant moments.

These moments, so small and yet so purposeful are where love is found. I look after myself, not through grand schemes of how life might be , but in the daily routines where I already am. So it is in these moments that happiness must be built. Enjoy the commute, smile at the market, smell the fresh warm smell of clean bedsheets, because every chore can be act of love and a reminder of your worth. If you can see love and happiness in the doing of small things, what more do you need.

Smile

We need to smile more. Happiness is everything and yet it seems so rarely mentioned. The trappings of success are cars and houses, boats and planes, trophy wives and empty lives that are full of material things. Corporate lives and corporate jobs may be good for some but I have chosen a different path.

I am not the happiest man alive. I have days that are good and days that are bad. However, the underlying feeling I have in my life is contentment. Life isn’t meant to be lived in constant euphoria and I still have my full range of emotion.

Having Aspergers brings anxiety and worries, but I live with those and accept them as part of who I am. Aspergers also brings many gifts and these are also a factor in the joy I find in life. The Asperger Path, this blog, is a great source of contentment but my writing also allows me to explore and share my perspective on life.

Happiness, this last few years, has been something I have practiced, and I feel I can find it more and more within me. Taking time to think about how lucky I am and the good people I come across helps to remind me that life places wonders all around us.

Recently I lost my wallet. For ten minutes I berated myself and ridiculed my stupidity. Then I stopped. I had lost ten dollars and it didn’t matter. I would still have food on the table and a bed. I looked around and realised that my wallet would most likely be found by someone more in need than me. I felt happy that some person could benefit from the situation.

Every situation is an opportunity. Our lives are amazing if we start looking for happiness. So next time you feel you aren’t successful, look inside and find the many things you can be grateful for and a happy smile will soon be on your face.

The man who was happy

Once upon a time there was a man who was happy. He was a humble man who didn’t do much, but as he went through life he sang and smiled at the people he passed by. He had his place in the world and he never stopped to think.

One day he was accosted by an angry woman. “When you smile,” she said, “you only see your own happiness from inside . Why don’t you think about other people.” The happy man stopped and he thought. It was true. All his life he had been so happy and he had never wondered about anyone else. He just sang and smiled at people even if they were feeling sad. He looked around and he saw all the sadness in the world and his smile disappeared. He felt terrible inside because he had never noticed the pain of life around him. Now he had seen it, he could feel it, and he was sad too.

A few days later he was stopped in the street again. “Where is your smile?” the stranger asked. “I see you everyday as you go about your business and your smile makes my heart sing.” The once happy and now sad man recounted the tale of the woman he had met a few days earlier. “That woman was a witch.” the stranger exclaimed. “You give so many people a little happiness with your smile. You are not a bad person just because you have so much joy in your heart that you cannot hide it on your face.”

The once happy now sad man stopped to think again. He knew there was happiness inside him and he decided to let it out. “If other people are unhappy,” he thought, “maybe my smile and my songs will make them happier. Being unhappy too doesn’t seem to help.”

So the once happy, then sad but now happy again man lived on in his own happy world. He walked along with a smile and song, not doing much except giving out happiness to anyone who wanted it. The world was a happier place because he was in it.