I feel really quite sad at the moment.
I think part of the reason I started writing this blog is so that I can document my thoughts and feelings at exact moments in time, due to the fact that many of my views are fluid and constantly evolve. With that in mind, I have chosen to write while I am in my present state, as it is a place I have found myself many times before.
I think of this state of mind as "psychological hangover" because it almost always happens to me after I have had some sort of emotional high. On this occassion, that is exactly the case. I am currently home alone after 2 days of being social, partying and generally having a good time. Early on Tuesday morning I found myself in the most bizarre scenario in my recent memory - sat on a pile of hay in a field, still drunk from the night before, laughing and joking with two people I've only just got to know and the farmer who owns the field, whilst cows grazed around us...
Being there came at no personal cost to myself and it was such a simple thing, but I've realised that, for a small moment in time, I was as happy as I have been for a long, long time. Perhaps that is more indicative of the quality of my recent experiences, than of the goodness of the moment, but I am grateful that it happened and I think it has given me lots to think about.
I obsess over money. We all know there are more important things than being rich and I, personally, believe it is foolish and crass the way many see affluence as a scoring system; but I see money as a tool which, if used properly, can be used to cause happiness and well-being in myself and those around me. When a lack of money prevents me from sharing in experiences with friends or family I feel sad. And, for all the cliches in the world about things that money can't buy, there are some things that you can't do without it.
Isn't it fitting, then, that my last experience of raw, overwhelming, happiness didn't cost a penny. Except it did. Because if I hadn't have been in the pub I would never have met them - and if I hadn't have been playing poker I wouldn't have been in the pub - and if I hadn't have had any money I wouldn't have been playing poker.
Don't get me wrong, I don't see it as a problem; it merely illustrates my point: money is a tool which allows you to manufacture situations where you can experience and share happiness. I hope that doesn't seem too depressing a conclusion. I don't think it's the money which makes people happy, it's the experiences which we share and the people who we share them with, but I think it is unrealistic to expect to be able to make new/maintain current social relationships without the right tools.... money being the main one.
Anyway, none of this is why I am sad. I am sad because the last few days have perfectly exhibited a notion which I was already painfully aware of: happiness is fleeting. Every day of our lives is a trudge through thick, heavy, rain-soaked, pock-marked terrain, in an attempt to enjoy a brief moment basking in the sunshine at the peak, before continuing onwards in search of something higher.
I'm not complaining, nor am I expecting that to change. It is what it is and at my core I know it's all worth it. But right now it has left me feeling down. I'm sure I'll feel different in the morning.
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