The Teacher in Me

My friend Linda over at Litebeing Chronicles posted a Divine Mission-Possible challenge this month. Here are her instructions:

1 – Write about your spiritual mission here on Gaia. Are you a lightworker, Starseed, forerunner, Indigo, or none of the above? What have you incarnated to do or to be? Describe your mission and your journey to achieve it. Are you delighted to be here? There is no correct answer, by the way. Make it your own.

It is my hope that this blog will inspire each of my readers to consider their own life purpose. Surely it is no accident that we have all come together in this time and space, right here, right now. Rachel, I am inviting you to rise to the Challenge. Your life is such an inspiration to me and I believe an explanation of what you see as your role in this life would spur many others on as well. ❤ 

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As a child, I remember having a toy classroom: several little desks glued to the top of a sturdy piece of wood with a larger desk at one end facing the others. The teacher and students were bears, with the teacher being the largest. I am not sure if there ever was a little bear for every seat, but I recall spending hours with a friend of mine, taking turns at teacher and student. I definitely enjoyed playing teacher best.

Image result for teddy bear classroom toy

It was not long before I actually started teaching. One summer in high school, my job was to visit the various parks around town to offer free tennis instruction to the kids. In college I led the first of many Bible studies with Inter Varsity Christian Fellowship. Unsure of my ability to ‘make it big’ as a soloist, I earned my BS in Music Education, and although six months of student teaching would be the only time I set foot in an actual classroom, I spent the rest of my life teaching others in some capacity. As a church choir director/band leader, I found many opportunities to teach music theory or vocal skills. I spent 15 years home schooling my three children. Now I blog, answer questions on Quora and write books.

In the late 90’s I ran into an interesting set of education material called “Lifetime of Learning.” The author intended to convince any reader of the evils of public school and the benefits of something she called ‘delight directed learning.’ Her theory was that the modern idea of classroom-bound education (imparting endless facts that have little to do with a student’s real life experience) was sure to drive the inborn desire to learn from anyone. I do not completely agree with her premise, but I do believe she was spot on when it came to what ought to be the impetus for any means of education: the desire for knowledge. To be a good teacher, one must first be an excellent student, and nothing delights me more than discovering new information in an area of interest to me (thus my current YouTube addiction).

The truth is, I can’t not teach. In fact, I’ve lost some potential friends over it. Perhaps another trick to teaching is knowing your audience. I have come to understand the phrase “words don’t teach, life experience teaches,” yet here I am, using a bunch of too many words specifically for the purpose of teaching! Maybe words don’t teach, but when a person has been through enough life experience, certain words will resonate. They will begin to make sense and carry the power of influence. Isn’t that the true mission of a teacher – to influence others in some way?

Today I would call myself a recovering Evangelical. I spent over 30 years tied to a religion whose beliefs I now consider silly at best, harmful at worst. During that time, like any dutiful disciple, I taught others that this religion was THE Truth and contained the answer to every question. I believed in it (or most of it) with my whole heart, only to later reject almost everything about it. Looking back, I could feel bad about how many people I potentially offended or even harmed in my dogmatic approach to the subject matter, except that I know a few things now about life that I did not understand then.

Like that evolution is a thing.

Related image
Photo source: https://edu.glogster.com/glog/evolution-of-dolphins/1jpbvjm0fan

No, not Evolution like fish turning into people (which might be a thing – don’t know and don’t care), but the evolution of thought through the course of life experience. I understand now that this life is a journey, and that along that journey people change – everything from how much money is in their bank account to what they believe. I also get now that we can only give out of the well-spring we are dipping from. Christianity was all that I knew – until I blew the walls down and looked around. In that process I learned what I consider the most important lesson for any teacher: it is okay – no, imperative to be okay with – not knowing. Not knowing everything, that is. I can still feel the freedom of finally being able to say, “I don’t know.” Take it from me, having to know the answer to everything is exhausting.

There is a piece of wood paneling running between the ceiling and the top of the closet in my new bedroom. My first inclination when I saw it was to paint the phrase “Temet Nosce” (Know Thyself) across the panel. I know myself to be a lightworker – one who has come to shine in the dark places, be it a person’s soul or the world at large. One of my favorite cards in the Tarot is the Hermit. This figure portrays a solitary researcher seeking knowledge (often from within), as indicated by the lantern he carries. But the light is not only there to illuminate his own path, it is for others as well. Anywhere that his light travels, the darkness of ignorance is dispelled. That is my goal, to bring the light of knowledge to everyone I come into contact with, be they a student of pickleball or metaphysics. Will my endeavors always be successful? It depends on the audience. But as long as I keep learning, my mission will always be possible.

In answer to Linda’s final question, “Are you delighted to be here?” Yes! There is nothing I love more than learning and then spreading the word to others. And since there is SO much that I don’t yet know, I will give you some advice I once heard: “Eat the meat and spit out the bones.” In other words, take what resonates and discard the rest. Maybe ‘the rest’ was wrong or maybe it was given to you outside of the context of your experience so it just won’t resonate. Remember, no one has the answer to everything, and in the end, life is the best teacher. So live it, and learn from it.

What about you? There are still a couple of weeks left in Linda’s blog challenge. Would you be game to write something about your Divine Mission? Reach out to Linda using the link above. You can post a comment there indicating your willingness to participate.

As always, thanks so much for reading!

Namaste,

~C

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Paperback Writer

For a long time I have known something about myself: I am really good at starting things, but finishing them? Not so much. A friend recently reminded me that this is but one mark of a Pisces. Imagine my surprise when, on May 29, 2018, the paperback version of my book went live on Amazon. That’s right! I actually succeeded in beginning and finishing a full-length novel. Wow! I have not completely wrapped my brain around this yet, but I’m gonna give it my best shot.

The thing is, I am not exactly sure how to get my brain around the completion of something I began almost four years ago. I should be ecstatic – and I am, don’t get me wrong! But there is also the very distinct question of ‘what’s next?’ banging around in my head right now. I mean, I spent almost every waking moment for the past several YEARS thinking about and writing the book that I wanted to read. And when I wasn’t consciously thinking about it, I could hear it whispering in the back of my mind, “Git ‘er done!” I did that. Now what?

Let’s see … I have several Tarot books I’ve been meaning to read, Wisdom of Sundays by Oprah Winfrey, and two travel books on Ireland to tackle before my trip in September. There are several metaphysical books gathering dust on my shelf, oh, and one incredible poetry book by Ra Avis that I have been meaning to get to. The hardest thing about writing was not feeling like I had time to read much of anything (or feeling a bit guilty when I did take the time). I still did read – a lot – seeing as it’s so difficult for me to not be in the middle of five or ten books at one time. I worked my way through everything that Patrick Rothfuss has published (Rothruss is by far THE best fantasy writer I have ever read, and I am not kidding even one little bit), The Four Agreements, two of Joe Dispenza’s books, one by Eckhart Tolle, Inner Engineering, another book on meditation and one on yoga, some things I reviewed right here on this blog, and a handful of novels that I listened to on CD (written by Sanderson, JRR Martin, and Mark Lawrence, all excellent writers of high fantasy). Now I am looking forward to finally knocking out the twenty or so more books that have been calling for my attention. I won’t be writing one anymore, at least for a little while.

If you are at all inclined to read fantasy fiction, check out my first novel. Honest reviews are appreciated, of course (although, if you really hate it, I would appreciate that feedback to come to me personally before it’s posted on Amazon – maybe let me catch my breath before flogging me publicly. 😉 ). Please feel free to email me with suggestions or comments about the book at ripplesofinsight@gmail.com. I am always looking to become better at this. Mostly, though, I hope you enjoy your journey into the little world I was privileged to create.

You can find my book

on Amazon.com, in either Kindle or paperback.

Meanwhile, I would love to hear about any new adventures happening in your life. Leave a comment to get the conversation started.

As always, thanks for reading!

Namaste,

C

A Vision of Clear Vision

Sometime in May of 2016, I began a quest for 20-20 eyesight. In conjunction with that, I started sun gazing and have worked my way up to 40 minutes. Although my eyes have a ways to go before I can flush my last pair of glasses, the speedy improvement to my vision has been astounding. Never mind feeding my lifelong addiction to sunlight.

In sixth grade, I complained about an inability to see the blackboard at school. Soon afterward, an opthamologist explained that my eyes were curved too much, or too little, or the wrong way or something. Apparently my eyes projected the incoming images onto the wrong section of my cornea. All I know is that I will never forget the day that I could see actual leaves on trees. It was glorious! Corrective lenses became a permanent part of my existence and have been for some forty years.

In 2003 an optometrist told me I was a candidate for retinal detachment. He began dilating my eyes every year and warning me to pay attention to floaters or bright flashes of light. I was living in Hawaii at the time – a place I would call “eye candy” for a completely different reason than the accepted use of that phrase. During the two and a half years I spent there, I could easily say that I witnessed a rainbow well beyond half of those 912 days. The exit from the H3 Tunnel offered a stunning view of Kaneohe Bay, but all I ever saw were the infinite shades of green and blue that comprised the color of the water. The sight never failed to take my breath away.  Once I was lost in Aiea. As I was making my way back to the main highway, there, directly over Pearl Harbor, I saw the most beautiful sunset ever. A flip phone is useless at capturing such beauty, so you will just have to settle for the Hawaiian sunset I did manage to photograph:

I met a lady with a detached retina in 2008. She basically lived with a large black spot in the center of her eyes. At all times. With no hope for change. The spot covered almost everything she looked at. She lost the ability to work, drive, or read. But to no longer be able to enjoy the sparkling blue eyes of my grandson … two red-throated hummingbirds fighting over territory … my daughter’s wry expressions … a window to Ireland … my son’s incredible talent … the crashing waves of the ocean beneath the rising sun of a new day … my daughter’s colorful clothing … autumn leaves, spring flowers, summer rain and winter white. I do not even want to imagine life without all of that. As a child, I sometimes played a game with a friend where one of us would pretend to be blind and the other, a guide. I never told her how much the idea of blindness terrified me.

Of my five senses, sight is the one that brings me the greatest joy. It is also the one I could least do without.

What the doctor in Hawaii failed to tell me is that corrective lenses were responsible for retinal detachment. And I am happy to note that since beginning this journey, I see virtually no floaters at all anymore. If you are interested in learning more about what myopia really is (and how to fix it) hop on over to Jake’s site and read the blogs. Not to be punny, but I found them quite eye opening.

My quest for clearer eyesight happened to coincide with my journey towards clearer insight as well. I have often wondered if the vision coming through my physical eyes could in any way be related to what I see with my spiritual one. The pictures I receive in my inner or third eye tend to be a bit blurry around the edges too. Could there be a connection, or does every clairvoyant “see through a glass dimly”?

There is no real way to tell, I think. It is certainly simpler on the physical plane. If a clear-sighted person wanted to see what the world looks like to me without glasses, they need only to put mine on. But finding out what anyone else sees through their third eye is beyond me. Perhaps on the day when I no longer need glasses, my question will be answered. Until then, I will continue my quest for 20-20 vision, all the while remembering to be thankful – so thankful – for the ability to see.

This blog was inspired by the November Sense-sational Blogging Challenge presented on the Litebeing Chronicles WordPress site. Hop on over and check it out! Oh, and please don’t forget the other contributors. The blog before mine was penned by Kristen on November 16. The next blog in the series will be published by Anupriya on November 20. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Ruination

Welcome to my blog and the very first International Tarot Day Blog Hop!

I’m thrilled and honored to collaborate with Bree Ferguson from Nym’s Divination in celebration of International Tarot Day (July 8, 2017).  For this year, I was asked to contribute my thoughts for the 10 of Swords. I hope you enjoyed Attila Blaga’s look at  the 9 of Swords. For a complete list of all the blogs in the hop, click the ITD thumbnail to the left. A link to the next blog in the hop can be found at the bottom of this page.

Below is a poem I wrote that encapsulates my understanding of the meaning behind the 10 of Swords. Please feel free to start a conversation in the comments. I would love to hear your take on this challenging and at times frightening card. Continue reading “Ruination”

Magnificence

Coming (back) into my own.

This is a response to Litebeing’s Magnificent Challenge posted by Ra.

magnificent-challenge-badge

I have written sparsely over the years about my family of origin. My favorite piece was part of a fictional tale crafted from the story retold every Christmas of how my grandfather came to America. The vast majority of the rest of my family posts relate in some way to my sister, who passed in December, 2013. During the year and a half following her death, writing was my way of grieving that loss. I have not, however, devoted any time to writing about myself as I stand within my family of origin.

How appropriate that I should run across this writing challenge. My family is where I learned of my own magnificence, and it is what brought me home to it at last.

My father is the youngest of eight siblings, and I am the youngest of four – by eight years (I do have a cousin a mere four years my senior). Being the last offspring of a large Lebanese-American family makes a person a lot of things: privileged and spoiled for sure, but also very much loved. Being my Fambly’s version of Lebanese makes a person an entirely different list of things: bold, hard working, loud, extravagant, and fiercely loyal. No, we are not all extroverts, but growing up, it certainly sounded like it – thanks for all the memories Uncle Saiad and Uncle George (by far, the loudest of the lot).

My family excelled at many things: tennis and hearts, laughter, good food, affection (Aunt Evelyn always kissed you three times, be you friend or total stranger), playacting (costumes and props included!), great food (did I mention food already?), telling the story, criticizing outsiders, teaching the importance of having a close-knit family, and gathering together around amazing food. My daughter and I often joke that with my Fambly, it really is all about the food, but the truth is, food was just a very large part of the love; and if this Fambly did anything truly well, it was love.

As is typical of immigrants of every race, my family looked within to find its identity. Sure, my father and uncles served in the military and all of them worked hard at their jobs and hobbies, their wives had friends and sometimes jobs, but when it came to who we were, our core values and beliefs, it was the Fambly that defined us. It was there that we turned for guidance toward our goals and the support we needed to reach them, but, above all, we discovered who we were in a deep well of unconditional love. I was far too young to have been a part of my siblings’ and nearby cousins’ lives, and now see myself as the last and arguably least of my clan. Yet, somehow, I always felt magnificent.

One brother holds me firmly, while the elder basks in my presence. (bottom left) Look how I magnetize all of my mother's attention! (upper right)
One brother holds me firmly, while the elder basks in my presence. (bottom left) Look how I, the smallest in the group, manage to capture all of my mother’s attention! (upper right) Even Uncle Saiad (top left) looks to be enjoying the exchange between mother and child.

I am not sure what to make of my own feeling of magnificence or why it was given me. It was simply an unspoken truth that I was special (the cousins still joke about it today at family reunions, so this year I reminded them to never forget it!). Perhaps it can be attributed to the years of space preceding my arrival (I was a ‘surprise’ after all), or that I was the baby of the baby, or maybe my parents just told me of my own magnificence in enough ways that it became true for me. No matter the cause, the fact remains that I grew up believing that I shone brightest.

I was the most magnificent of all.

On paper that line reads as egotistical, but I am speaking with the voice of a child the emotions of a child. A child filled with wonder and at times quite overwhelmed by the sheer vastness of a Fambly able to loom so high above her. I wonder sometimes if I did not make myself magnificent just to be heard over the booming voices of my Uncles when they were arguing over the cards, the clattering noise of my Aunts as they busily prepared enough food for armies, and the uninhibited din of my cousin’s reunited horseplay. Other than age and my much-indulged precociousness, I cannot remember any clear distinction between myself and my same-generation family members. If anything, they outshone me in a hundred myriad ways (actors and artists, doctors and lawyers, musicians and teachers…the list goes on). Yet, astoundingly, while everyone in the Fambly knew I believed myself to be the brightest star, for some reason they encouraged that belief – or I simply convinced myself that they did!

After years of hearing about my own magnificence, other voices entered my life. Many disparaged and criticized my origins, or mocked the qualities that made me ‘me’. Some even urged me to put out the light that used to shine so brightly. Under the constant drone, I forgot my place. For a time, I could not remember who I was, where I came from, and how truly bright I once was allowed to shine. But the Fambly that indulged my youthful aspiration to be most magnificent of all reminded me that I am magnificent because I belong to each and every one of them, and they to me. We make one another magnificent.

Unconditional love taught me that I do not have to shine the brightest, but I do have to know my own magnificence if I want to bask in the love of such a Fambly. This kind of love will not settle for less in the beloved.

when-the-roots-are-deep

Slowly I remember. I begin to see glimpses of the star-child of my youth in the reflected gaze of my Fambly – and, even occasionally, the mirror. May I never forget my roots again. They are strong supports and the stuff from which I am made, and remind me that no matter what I do or where I go, I am a part of them and they of me.

My roots remind me that I am magnificent.

I hope you will take the time to visit Litebeing’s site and read what some others have written about their own magnificence. If you are so inclined, join the challenge and put a link to your post in the comments below.

Aiseiri

Welcome to Friday Fictioneers, the place where Rochelle Wisoff-Fields hosts weekly flash fiction based on a photo prompt. The challenge is to write a complete story in approx. 100 words. The link for other entries is below. Come join us!

Copyright - Renee Heath
Copyright – Renee Heath

 

100 words:

She looked up to see wax stretching halfway to the floor, the candle spent. Head aching, she stood to watch the new day dawn. What day – ? Sunday, she thought, hearing the church bell. I did it, in only 3 days! She didn’t dare celebrate yet. That would come if – no, when it worked.

Stepping over enough rare herbs to buy a kingdom, she lit a new candle and left to clean herself of smoke and sweat. Returning refreshed, she placed her hand on Miach’s lifeless corpse and offered another prayer. Feeling her brother’s skin begin to warm, Airmid smiled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kidnapped!

Welcome to Friday Fictioneers, the place where Rochelle Wisoff-Fields hosts weekly flash fiction based on a photo prompt. The challenge is to write a complete story in approx. 100 words. The link for other entries is below. Come join us!

Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

100 words:

The odd things at Bernie’s grandmother’s house fascinated Joey. It surprised him how well the old helmet fit. “Does he have it on?” Joey barely heard the question through the thick metal. Turning around he jumped back. Standing in the doorway were Bernie and Mona in spacesuits!

Joey fumbled with the helmet, trying to take it off. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Mona pointing at the window. Looking through the glass, he saw the houses around them falling away. “You’d best get this on,” she said, holding out a suit. Bernie smiled as Joey began screaming.

 

 

 

 

Homecoming – Part 4

Welcome to Friday Fictioneers, the place where Rochelle Wisoff-Fields hosts weekly flash fiction based on a photo prompt. The challenge is to write a complete story in approx. 100 words. The link for other entries is at the bottom.

I’m continuing a series of glimpses from a larger story begun 4 weeks ago. You can check out my previous parts here: Homecoming  Part 2  Part 3

 

copyright - DLovering

100 words:

Things were not going as planned. Kelsey had followed Grant’s instructions to the letter, but the chair sat empty. She still didn’t have what she needed.

Looking up at the streamers she wondered what to do. “Kel?” Kelsey jumped at the sound of her name.

Looking at Jim with relief, she smiled, “You came.”

“I wouldn’t have missed this,” he said. “Here,” he sat down and set a box on the table between them. “I have something for you.”

Kelsey looked at the carefully wrapped package. Knowing how much she needed what was inside did nothing to calm her fears.

 

Homecoming – Part 3

Copyright-John Nixon

100 words:

Kelsey gazed between branches at Jim’s gaunt features. She remembered the first time she ever laid eyes on him. She remembered everything. Their journey had more twists than the limbs holding her. She wondered why Grant had brought her here, now. Why this prison? Tentatively, she reached a hand through curving trunks. Jim turned away. That made sense. She had failed him utterly.

“Jim, I – ” she stopped. Just like that he disappeared, again! “I promise, I will find you,” she whispered hoarsely.

Her eyelids popped open. Jim lay there on the bed next to her, their fingers entwined.

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The above is my March 26, 2014 entry to Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle for heading up this weekly challenge and to John Nixon for the photo prompt. Be sure to check out the other entries:

 

Homecoming, Part 2

Last week’s entry had a few people asking me for more of the story brewing in my head. Thankfully, this week’s incredible photo prompt gave me just what I needed. Rochelle, I love your eye for photography!

Copyright: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Friday Fictioneers – March 21

101 Words

Kelsey woke with a start back in the dilapidated brownstone on Twelfth Street. What was Grant trying to tell her? The vivid dream had left her skin clammy; the taste of cranberries lingered on her tongue.

Dragging herself out of bed for something caffeinated, she padded across her 4th floor studio apartment wondering why this dream disturbed her more than the others – now 10, in as many days.

A knock diverted her from the coffee. “Who’s there?” she asked. No answer. Tying her robe’s sash tightly, she opened the door. Her empty mug exploded when it hit the concrete. “Jim!”

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If you’d like to participate, clicking on the photo above will transport you to our lovely and talented overseer, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ site. Once there, all shall become clear.

Do take a gander at this week’s other entries:

Homecoming

copyright – Adam Ickes

100 words:

As a child, the wooden bridge leading into the cranberry bog had seemed endless. Kelsey stood looking down the expanse from her porch now, wondering if she’d made the right decision. Her doubts fled when she saw Grant running towards her from the dock.

“Look what I found, Mommy – treasure,” his high-pitched voice carried across the planks.

She smiled at his contagious excitement. To her 6-yr. old, even the mundane shimmered with wonder.

“Show me,” Kelsey shouted back. Seeing his prize stopped her heart cold. There in Grant’s hand, tangled with dripping leaves, rested Jim’s watch.

The above is my March 14, 2014 entry to Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle for heading up this weekly challenge and to Adam Ickes for the photo prompt. Be sure to check out the other entries:

Friday Fictioneers: Healer

This is my first ever entry in the Friday Fictioneers weekly writing challenge. Rochelle Wisoff-Fields leads the group, and this week Danny Bowman provides the muse. I know my regular readers will find it difficult to recover from stunned shock that I could write anything in less than 1 million words. 😉

Copyright Danny Bowman

100 Words

Today of all days! Catherine thought, bitterly.

Her breath came and went in wheezes halfway up the steep slope. Hot tears fighting for release stung her eyes. The phone call had been brief. As soon as she’d heard what happened she knew she would go. The fallen climber could not know what this day meant to her.

Pushing the memories of Brock’s broken body aside, she moved forward through the crowd. The unconscious man moaned.

“Let’s do this,” she said. Handing Reggie her medical bag, Catherine gave the stranger what no one could give her son: Life after a fall.

Check out the other entries by clicking the link below.

MY Happiest Place On Earth

Today I read a post challenge/contest here. Reading through Misty’s account of her trip to Disney made me smile. I cannot think of a worse fate than a week at Disney, or any other theme park like it, for that matter.

So the challenge was to blog about my happiest place. The first picture that popped into my mind was the beach. Oh, not just any beach – Bellows Beach holds my fondest memories:

I tried for a year to draw this view … I’m hopeless.

Situated on the Eastern side of Oahu, Bellows became a sort of haven for me when I just needed time alone. During our last summer there I made the commitment once-a-week to drive across on the H3 (always catching my breath at the sight of the bright, multi-colored shoreline at the tunnel’s end) in order to spend an hour or two soaking up the sun as refreshing salt-water waves crashed endlessly over my feet. We had the privilege of living in Hawaii for 2 1/2 years. I do believe you can still discern the faint scratches left by my fingernails on the airport tarmac while being dragged against my will toward the plane …

Okay, so that was my first thought. Then I recalled the yard off my side porch this morning. As I sat listening to birdsong and bumble bees buzzing around the magnolia blooms, it occurred to me that I was home. Peace surrounded me. No, there were no crystal-clear blue waves crashing over white sandy shores; no mountains rising up out of ocean spray, no sea turtles wandering across the beach for a glimpse of the clumsy 2-legged creatures gawking at them … just a sky of pink-tinged clouds scudding over blooming trees and the mournful sound of the morning doves.

Staring hard at 50 makes one think a little more deeply about what constitutes happiness. The bigger scheme of things comes into play when you age, I think. Happiness for me is no longer where I am on the outside, but has become more about where I am on the inside. Anthony de Mello reminded me recently that the ‘highs’ we call happiness are but the precursors to the lows we know as depression.

Maybe my happiest place is inside me where contentment lives. The simple things in life … family, a fresh-mown lawn, a friend sharing a glass of wine with me are what I have come to cherish. My happiest place is every place. At work or at play, I only need look within to find happiness.

What about you? What is your happiest place?