happiness bites

[caraloup]

So I have a hard time writing something genuinely *happy*. Not like that's a big secret... There's some measure of angst in almost all my stories, even when there's happiness, and that actually makes it more tangible to me. It's that murky tracing of risk and loss around happiness and fulfillment, the bedrock of realism that sharpens its edges.

Comments

P.S.

[ajodasso]

Leather is utterly delightful, and it's good to know I'm not the only one who listens to it/has listened to it while in a contemplative mood, by chance or otherwise.

re: happiness bites

[slender_sail]

I miss our exchanges... Thus moved, I clicked on your "Essays" tag and found this veritable gem of a post. May I share my trepidations, ages later? (Anyone who still says time is linear in 2010, has no clue). I recall some similar thoughts we exchanged more recently, too...

Does that mean I just have to muddle along and hope that something extraordinary will strike when I'm not looking, not consciously trying?
Think of the story of Psyche... and of Tolkien's "Eucatastrophe" mentioned in one of the comments (since then, we've both read On Fairy Stories!). We do have to muddle along, but if there is sufficient effort, there is also something which "strikes" and lifts us the rest of the way. We have to work, to open that door. From my experience, it doesn't have to be an unconscious (ego-less) state, since that "extraordinary bit" lifts conscious thought itself to perceive higher states/frequencies - and one realizes that conscious thought was already an approximate reflection of that more intimate "intuition".

And how real can it