There is no happiness but that which I create for myself. There is no happiness that some one can bring to me that will last. I must lay happiness down at my own feet. I must embed it in my own heart. I must build that foundation for myself. If it is not built with my own toil and blood and beautiful thoughts, it is merely a foundation of shifting sand, sure to turn quick or blow grit in my eyes. Happiness is the work and the making and the choice of my own.
Having forgotten this wisdom, I find myself in an empty field, late winter snowflakes showering down. It is not where I thought I would be. It is not what I thought I asked for, wished for, or visualized. But here I am. Less than warm, empty hands, blue mist shrouding my brain.
And so, I have a choice. Remain suspended and cold, or look closely at the beauty of the field I stand in. Stop looking beyond or behind this field and see where my feet are standing now. Lay happiness down in the snow-covered grass. Take my empty hands and press them together over my heart. Embed love and prayers. For me. I have the choice to stand in my field, dissolving blue mist and snow with beautiful thoughts, with happy thoughts, knowing spring will come.