Nana Joy



You should not pursue happiness because it has an antonym...

- Why is it so hard nana? Why is it so fucking hard to be happy?

- Because of the antonym — nana mumbled as she crocheted a wool magenta hat for her grandaughter.

- What?! — Clare's head shook in stupefaction.

- The antonym — nana repeated — what is the antonym of happiness, dear?

- Friggin despair?! — Claire couldn´t help herself — I don't know... unhappiness, sadness, misery... my entire life!

- Oh Clarebear, not with a name like yours — said nana with a quick knowing glance.

Clare slided off the couch and curled up on the worn out Indian silk carpet, right next to nana's wooden chair.

- Sweet Clariebear, you should never pursue anything that has an antonym, for it will only be a temporary fixture, it won't last long. Soon, you will fall in the arms of its opposite, and that too won't last long. You will live a life of highs and lows, peaks and valleys... you will age prematurely. You will get horrible wrinkles you know, hills, gorges and folds even Nivea won´t be able to fix.

- Ew, no-thank-you! So, what are you saying nana? I shouldn't want to be happy?

- Nope, you shouldn't. You should just be joyful.

- Isn't that the same shizzle?

- No, it is not the same... shizzle, my dear. Joy is an immutable emotion. It has no antonym. Joy is a state of being, not doing. Joy is a state of being that depends on no thing and no one. Joy is unalterable, unshakable, unbreakable, infinite, eternal, holy, truth.

- Wow... who said that, Father Tony?

- God no! — nana carried on slowly and lovingly crocheting — an old friend of grandad's and mine. Joy is a frequency, you see, a vibration you can pull into your body straight from spirit. Spirit resides two feet or so above your head...

- What?! He does?!

- Shush. Clare, spirit is heshe.

- Oh, of course, of course nan. So, joy...

- Yes. Joy, you don't pursue, you access. The easiest and quickest way to access joy is straight through the meadow of peace and the river of love.

- Right — said Clare trying to make sense of nana's metaphor.

- It's not a metaphor, Clariebear. First, you be peace, be peace, be peace... think of someone or something that resonates peace into every cell of your being. Then, you be love, be love, be love... it feels different, doesn't it? Now, be joyful. Bring your attention to a place about two feet above your head and pull this energy down into the body, all the way down into the feet and back up and around. Joy, joy, joy... joy to the world... — nana started to hum, then sing to herself, then to Clariebear.

- Joy, joy, joy... joy to the world. Joy, joy, joy... joy to the world! — as she sang, Clare's eyelids softened, her smile broadened into a grin, her beauty exploded like flowers in spring.


The Peruvian Sage




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