Happiness is a profound emotion that evolves from within rather than being dependent on external factors. Within the confines of our home, we can experience its true essence. It is not an ephemeral sensation that sprouts overnight; rather, it grows and flourishes over time, nurtured by the things that surround us.
The books that line our shelves, each one a gateway to knowledge and inspiration, contribute to our happiness. The carefully chosen curtains we drape and hang lend a touch of warmth and comfort to our living spaces, creating an inviting atmosphere. Adorning our walls with pictures, especially those of our beloved family members who may be physically distant but remain close to our hearts, brings immense joy. The mere thought of them ignites a sense of contentment and affection.
May Sarton, in her exquisite poem “The Work of Happiness,” beautifully encapsulates this notion. She reminds us that happiness is not a passive state but an active pursuit—a labor of love that involves surrounding ourselves with meaningful objects and cherished memories. It is the tender care we invest in our home and the people we hold dear that truly cultivates lasting happiness within us.
I thought of happiness, how it is woven
Out of the silence in the empty house each day
And how it is not sudden and it is not given
But is creation itself like the growth of a tree.
No one has seen it happen, but inside the bark
Another circle is growing in the expanding ring.
No one has heard the root go deeper in the dark,
But the tree is lifted by this inward work
And its plumes shine, and its leaves are glittering.
So happiness is woven out of the peace of hours
And strikes its roots deep in the house alone:
The old chest in the corner, cool waxed floors,
White curtains softly and continually blown
As the free air moves quietly about the room;
A shelf of books, a table, and the white-washed wall—
These are the dear familiar gods of home,
And here the work of faith can best be done,
The growing tree is green and musical.
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