From time to time I become obsessed with the idea of doing something of relevance with my life. It would have to be something fulfilling both in its usefulness – there’s room for argument in there – and its spiritual depth. Something that you would hold, or look at or think about and feel immediately lifted to a higher, better place. A happier place.

Living is about being happy. We achieve this both through most bizarre and simplest ways.

Sometimes – more and more often as we grow older, perhaps – happiness becomes a sort of currency that goes to the detriment of others’ happiness. As if there was a limited pool of it sitting somewhere and it fluctuated according to our actions like a moon-driven tide, pulled in cycles that remain yet to be figured out.

Some other times the chance to be happy is just in front of us, too frightening to even look at it. It seems never-ending, vast and free. Full of possibilities in itself, an enormous source of delight.  Some people take the leap and march ruthlessly towards a fearless existence, some others turn to the twisted version of the path to joy.

Of course, like many other things in this life of ours, there’s little room to judge which one is better than the other. After all, every single of us have different priorities marked by our own experiences and goals.