Happiness for Real

“Happiness”, she said to herself. “What is it anyway?”

All her life she had struggled with what seemed appropriate in each context of her somewhat changeable landscape of reality, trying to fit in as best she could according to what she believed others would appreciate.

Artemisia had always thought that was happiness - to be appreciated. Yet, she had also never really felt fulfilled.

The thing now was that she had reached a turning point. One of those big moments when one questions oneself about one’s priorities and takes a break to reflect on the path so far taken. 

It had been brought about by a series of disappointments. First a painful breakup with her boyfriend of 10 years, then a misunderstanding with a friend that had lead to more misunderstandings with other friends, added to an overall sense of failure at her job, coupled with constant bouts of throat infection and pain in her joints.

Artemisia felt quite miserable. Her life had not so far been particularly hard. Her family was a regular one, with no big dramas to account for, her education was pretty fine and she had never had much trouble getting good grades whilst she had been at school. Her work was stable and she did not have money issues that she could speak of. She wasn’t rich but what she earned was enough for her expenses and that was good enough for her. 

Artemisia had never been one to complain. How could she really? To the naked eye she had everything.

But inside… it wasn’t so peaceful inside. She had been struggling all along to never bring attention upon herself for the wrong reasons. Working hard. Always working hard. As far back as she could remember. Even as a small child. Working hard for no one to get angry at her.

How can a child so small… she must have been about 2 years old in her inner eye, as she looked back at the little girl scrambling to get out of harm’s reach and be prim and proper.

There would be loud voices shouting at her and a hard hand across her face and bottom if she got it wrong. And the little Artemisia had no idea what wrong was, but the forceful knowing of it became crystal clear.

No running around, especially not squealing with laughter. No experimenting with mummy’s pretty jewels. No this… and no that… and be a good girl, sit still, keep quiet. Later on at school, learn the lesson well so you don’t get scolded for being dumb and most of all never require them at home to explain any school work because they will start by making you feel like a complete failure before even getting into the subject itself.

For Artemisia this had been normal. She had never known any other way. She had developed a lot of silent rage to keep the courage going and fear had become a close friend, keeping her safe and alert - careful not to step out of line.

Sometimes a deep sadness welled up from nowhere and mostly she had no idea how it had come to be there.

But now, looking at the little girl, she realised she had felt so alone at times - alone in her child time and space of play where no adult in her immediate environment had been able to join her, making her feel awkwardly inappropriate. And this had brought up so many tears. Until they had all dried up and the heart had become numb to these feelings of not belonging and the sadness had gone to sleep.

Hmmm… Maybe she had not exactly had a normal life back at home. Artemisia wondered.

Surely there had to be different ways to grow up.

She was definitely a success robot. And in a world filled with them, it became hard to discern whether there was anything else to be. A success robot always aims for more, gets things right and never thinks about taking time off for self-care, leisure and chilling out. That is for lazy sods who are either blessed to be rich from the start or live on funds and pensions. Such was the lesson Artemisia had learnt. And she had come out top of her class in this. So a diligent success robot she had worked towards and had become.

The problem is that it was always only for a few instants. Each success was nothing once achieved. Never really savoured or honoured. Because there was more and better to keep on seeking. Always something else to move towards.

Somehow it all seemed senseless to her right now. Senseless and empty. 

Happiness could not be this.

This turning point plunged Artemisia into a deep inner dive of self-discovery which was at first blessedly sparkly. Wow! 

All of sudden she could see beyond the heavy cloud of self-judgement and sense the freedom that lies in the sweet innocence of a child now coupled with the experience of life evolving into adulthood without resentment. This is what she wanted to achieve. This was it! The happiness she had been seeking!

Little did she know that to have this as a permanent inner state reflected on her reality and current experiences, she would have to retrieve the wounded children from across the years of her life… and also whatever other lifetime expressions of herself came up along the way of this excavation expedition into the rubble. No other way to uncover the diamonds and live the joy.

Hmmm… It seemed daunting. Could it be possible?

She figured that if it weren’t possible she would not have the notion of it and that no matter whether she managed to fully round up all of her lost parts or not, did not matter. What mattered was the journey. Each child of her acknowledged and loved, was one step closer to her goal of wholeness.

She had no idea how to do this, but as it were, she came across something called Conscious and Compassionate Breath and started realising she had completely forgotten how to breathe openly. Her breath was short, tight and fearful. She started paying more attention at babies and how they breathe with their whole body. She used to do that too, a long long time ago.

It was physically painful to open up the tightness in her diaphragm and let her belly come out with the in-breath - to absorb the breath openly. It took time, patience, a lot of frustration too. Initially, when she sat down to attend to her breath, it was hard to stay still for more than a few minutes. 

The noise in her thoughts was constant and distracting. Her body felt stiff.

However, she was determined and to cut a long story short, after many months of consistent practice she gradually started to be able to relax, to be still and to not allow her noisy thoughts to distract her from the equally present inner sense of stillness.

Artemisia realised her body was aching in places she didn’t even have a notion of. And her heart. Phew! It was not happy. There were locks and gates and walls and armours and all sorts of heavy layers of protective scar tissue, to keep it shut down and “safe” from harm. Yet, all of these accoutrements were weighing on it like a tomb stone and slowly but surely killing it - killing her.

Whilst scrutinising the layers of shame, guilt, hurt, jealousy, fear, regret, frustration, self-doubt, sadness, anguish, helplessness, hopelessness… so much pain, anger stood out and surprisingly produced hidden rage and hatred that Artemisia had never dared to imagine as being a part of her too.

Invariably, underneath all of the costumes, each monster, each giant, each warrior was sore, lost, a child in desperate need of being seen, held, cared for and valued. And she was the only one who could do this. All of the other attempts throughout her life, she now realised, all of the attempts to be appreciated by others had done nothing for these children. They had just kept them hidden, fighting for survival, leading the way and calling the shots from a very noisy background of victimhood, wanting to be saved, needing to save, not knowing that the only thing that was missing was Herself. Artemisia. Simply acknowledging herself.

Maybe because she had never felt the Presence of her grander self, her expanded awareness. The One that she was beyond her human perception of limitation. Reconciling this knowingness with her sense of having been abandoned to suffer, was not easy.

If there was a grander Self, a Soul, which she now could not deny as it was more real than anything inside of her, why had this extraordinary One that she was, not come forward to take her out of her inner misery? Why?

And it gradually dawned on Artemisia that only the Human expression of that Soul coming to awareness of itself as being worthy, enough and ready to feel safe, choosing to be done with hiding behind concrete walls of separation, only the Human could make the choice, could say Yes! “Yes, I am ready to be done with the pain of darkness. Forgetfulness of the entirety of me. I am ready to acknowledge I am the one I have been punishing and I am the One I have been waiting for. Only I can be done with judging myself. With remaining caught in judging others. The world. The way things are. Only I can say YES! I am ready to come back Home into this body, this human expression and to stop imagining it is better elsewhere in the Universe. Only I can collapse into the Compassion of my Soul and allow it to show me how to heal all of the pain I have experienced and transform it into gold. Only I can say ‘it’s enough’. Only I can stop getting caught up in fear. Giving in to anger. Losing myself in battle.”

Artemisia was surprised to realise that the moment she had given in to hatred, to revenge, to rage, to self-loathing, a long long time ago, in another lifetime, as another person, she had plunged into a series of experiences that repeatedly took her further into Darkness, which she now saw just meant Ignorance - forgetfulness of her entire nature as a being experiencing humanness. 

All of these experiences had, nevertheless, stretched her capacities as a whole and especially the scope of compassion. Not while she was immersed in the Darkness but as the potential once she remembered she was also Light. Not only, but also. And thus the potential of merging both into a new whole had grown and grown and expanded enormously.

This gave birth to new possibilities of harmony, cooperation and balance throughout all of existence. No matter where. 

Happiness for real. Artemisia considered. Was, after all, possible. But it was not what she had sought after. It was this peace of reconciliation with and within herself. The expanded silence as the noise of the parts of her started to lessen in their homecoming back to her. It was the stillness of compassion. Knowing all is well, in the end. And that there is no end - nothing goes to waste. It is all transformed and the treasure of each pain becomes an asset of wisdom. Ending the battles. Stopping the search. Trusting her heart. Listening to her Soul. Loving her humanness. Not needing to pretend in any way. Being transparent. Honest with herself and others. Real. 

This was happiness. And it was a constant discovery.

Photo by Nikos Pentarakis - Pexels