For a long time, Ida believed in the permanency of her happiness. She also believed that she deserved happiness more than others because she’s dazzling and elegant. During discussions about the topic, she talked like a know-it-all Ostrich. For some reason, saying, “you don’t know everything” consistently felt like a sufficient response to all of her arbitrary entitlements.
Recently, there has been a stall in Ida’s infamous views. Unfortunately, the perfection of her happiness seems to have dwindled. Though I appropriately understand her circumstances, I’m unable to be empathetic. The reason has to do with what lies beneath the chronicles of our timeworn discussions.
As an immigrant, I never believed in permanency. Permanency never lasts. Any concept that promises permanency in human experience is doomed to disappoint. Much worse, an orthodox belief in the permanency of delicate concepts is one of the main causes of its failure. The simple problem of any rigid belief is that it imprudently discounts change.
I agree with Ida that marriage is on old tradition, but change is an older one. For many years, the crawling changes were there for Ida to see but she preferred to look away. Ida continued to like her own world, and he changed to like the world.
Ida, you asked me to write an honest post about the topic before we meet. Here I am, fulfilling the promise with a snappy disposition.
“Happiness can be found in ordinary moments where we lose ourselves in extraordinary ways. This involves renunciation of the notion of perfectibility of man. Man can be perfect for five minutes in extraordinary moments but we can’t stay perfect.
You must give up the notion of permanent heaven. We can get into heaven, but for five minutes. Then you have to come back to the world again” –- Abraham Maslow
When you read words that feel as though they’re written for you. This feels like that.