Happiness is a Poor Memory
It occurs to me that much of what ails me is in the past. It’s a nebulous thing, the past. It holds such sway over us, yet it doesn’t actually exist. Only memories and consequences persist.
If we can endure the latter, we can forget the former. It’s precisely those moments, when both conditions are met, that I’m happiest. Perhaps the key to happiness is having a poor memory.
No past, no future, just this. A flash of perception and a return to nonexistence.