Fools rush in, so here I am
Very glad to be unhappy
I can’t win, but here I am
More than glad to be unhappy
Peace of mind,
where’s the happiness we should be havin’?
We can’t find any answers in the good times we had.
Keaau Beach, Hawaii
Feb. 6 `73
For the better part of the past week, I had worried about where I would sleep, or if I was going to get rained on. Not last night! I had a
warm place to sleep, and I was camped at the end of the road, so I
didn’t have to worry too much about getting busted. It was more a
daytime thing with the pigs anyway. After dark they left you alone. I had a beautiful view of the ocean surf breaking in front of me and
nothing but clear sky above me. After all of my “creaturely needs”
were fulfilled, and the big orange sun sank into the ocean, I sat back
and watched as the sky filled with twinkling stars. It couldn’t have
God, was that an enjoyable evening. I felt extremely happy, but in
retrospect, last night’s happiness was a different kind of happiness
than the happiness I had felt when I was with Carol Sue. That
happiness was indescribable. It was also different from the happiness I had felt when I coasted my bicycle down Ten Sleep Canyon. That was a “blissed out happiness.” It was even different from the happiness that I had felt when I dropped acid on a religious quest in the Deadstream Swamp.
Last night’s happiness was the closest “I” could get to being happy.
It was a happiness concentrated in my own ego. It was the same kind of happiness that I had felt when on a summer night four years ago I had found myself overlooking the bright lights of San Diego. It was also the same kind of happiness that filled me to bursting when, in Seattle, under that Monorail train, I had just escaped what I felt was to be certain death. On those occasions, “I” was happy, very, very happy. When desires become satisfied, when security, appetite, and multiple addictions become satisfied–-happiness overwhelms. That kind of happiness was certainly welcome, but at best (unfortunately), that kind of happiness occurred infrequently and was soon gone.