Blink and you’ll miss it. (Bliss)
Out of a moment that lasted for seconds maybe minutes. A hole in one, a walk off home run, a clean wipe after dropping the kids off at the pool. Whatever it is that catches you off guard in a good way. Comes the wave of bliss you’ll bath in. In the aftermath of such uncommon occurrences.
I’d be riding high and walking tall for a bit after any one of these serendipitous occurrences. That so often do not go how one would hope.
And it’s these former failures and shortfalls that we know all to well that we have to thank for the warm glow we’re awash in when the outcome is reversed. Having grown accustomed the soul crushing feeling of defeat or failure. Some are even momentarily shocked before celebrating the rare times "the so called stars in heaven aligned" and the storybook moments we’ve imagined played out in our favor. Because it’s so unexpected by comparison.
Like running into George Harrison as his guitar gently weeps rather than ones own degenerate son looking to borrow money with the aid of a loaded gun. One don’t miss and lands that kiss of bliss. While the other gets you shot in the back. The kind of fun from which you can’t run.
The first is worth the price of admission. The boredom, breakdowns, and mental anguish. The costs of living. Of getting your wish. "Life’s a bitch" without the lovely little bits of bliss that don’t miss us. It’s the memory’s of such that keep us level. Not hanging out in hell with the devil.