What is this notion of bliss, this most venerable of a concept? What is it about it that is so unattainable, so desirable, and so fulfilling all at once?
Life is just a series of tiny moments. Unique little, fleeting “nows”… that happen in the moment, before we realise it happened. At an attempt to understand the now, to determine what the now even is, takes us away from it, and to a new experience. A new now, spent on analysing a now that has already passed. For to spend time analysing the moment, you cannot be in it.
It would be a presumptuous yet fair statement, to say that we all have a preconceived notion of what we
Happiness, as everything else in life, is fleeting. It is temporary. This is not scary, or negative. It’s a fact.
In the words of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, “The small details, are by far the most important.”