Centered. Touching the core. Endorphins rushing, climactic.
What primes this pump, that cool draught drawn from the depths and gushing in a burst of joy? The handle raised and lowered to extrude pure happiness is not levered against a single sweet spot. It is pressed against many fulcrums: the softening of the facial muscles; the upward turn of the corners of the mouth; that momentary retraction somewhere near the heart; the relaxing of the eyes upon the distant horizon.
Can we not choose to be happy?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)

No comments:
Post a Comment