Daily writing prompt
When are you most happy?

I find happiness a curious word,
as if it depends on a sustained surge
of endorphins the body was never meant
to carry for long.
As if we’re meant to walk the world
with a grin pasted on our faces—
part cartoon villain, part eager salesman—
offering a version of ourselves
that isn’t quite true.

I prefer contentment.
A quieter state.
One that suggests being settled
in the choices we’ve made,
settled enough within ourselves
to sleep deeply
and wake to a new dawn
with a clear mind.
Enough inner space to ask,
without urgency,
what brings satisfaction today—
even amid work,
even amid the care we grant one another.

This morning, happiness looks like overcast.
Like stepping outside to mulch the trees
and plants the wild pigs have tossed,
rooting and thinning the soil around them.
It looks like tending what’s been disturbed,
knowing that when the drying trade winds return—
when the skies clear and the sun turns brilliant—
those same plants won’t simply stop growing
and stand stunned by the heat.

Much like us.

When conditions grow harsh,
we, too, can go stock-still,
waiting for a shift in the wind,
for rain enough to soften the ground,
for balance to return
so we can carry on.

Perhaps happiness is not an elevation at all,
but a steadiness—
the quiet relief of having what we need
to remain responsive to life,
unperturbed by the weather of the moment,
still capable of inhabiting
this world,
this body,
this earth.

Kohala skies ~ bj 2025