CATHARSIS

The Happy Place

LIFE IS ACTUALLY SIMPLE.

Why do we keep making it complicated?

A month ago, we started occupying this little cottage that has been here for a couple of years now, idly waiting for its occupant’s early retirement.

Allow me to paint a picture of this humble place.

The cottage lies in the heart of an acre-wide lot,

 sitting quietly amidst the wild anarchy of nature,

lurking beneath the tall coconut trees as if fighting for its rightful place under the sun.

If only it was a little taller.

Luckily for the trees though, the cottage – which is just slightly larger than a Hobbit house, lacks the requirements to compete for attention,

lacking even the much-hyped architectural style of the century,

devoid of the little luxuries such as air-conditioned rooms, expensive furniture, state-of-the-art appliances, and cable connection.

 It is literally bare and almost boring,

 BUT LIVABLE.

And we’re okay with that.

In fact, we nicknamed it from “Lungga” to “Our Happy Place.”

BACK TO BASIC.

Each day, we would wake up to the sound of turkeys cackling from the adjacent farm (they cackle like crazy ever so often that my son once asked me if they were suffering from a serious throat infection ?),

the twittering of birds nesting in the towering trees lining the front yard,

the mighty holler of the “puto” (rice cake) cake vendor,

and the rays of the sun slowly making their way through the bay windows.

Who needs alarm clocks?

What happens next is a repertoire of a few not-so-painful adjustments. 

First off, we had to cook breakfast from an improvised kitchen counter.

No granite countertops.

No microwave ovens and bullet blenders.

Just a two-burner gas stove on an old wooden bench.

Then there’s a kiddo in the house who needs a little pampering before mommy goes to work and while daddy is herding his beloved goats- Butyok, Burnok and Meeekai?

Between waking up and being tacked to bed, this kiddo would climb guava trees with his favorite cousins and new-found friends -a bunch of self-proclaimed members of the “Special Forces” but who actually look like a bunch of little thugs?- armed with slingshots and a pocketful of pebbles for ammunition.

He seems to learn new tricks with each “See you later mama.” and enjoyed all the freedom of not having a nanny checking up on him.

Each night, when the weather is right, we would either be spending an hour star gazing practically sprawled on the grass (when there are not enough tree stumps to sit upon),

or just huddle in bed and entertain each other with stories of how our day went.

Who needs cable T. Vs?

It was one of those nights that I asked the big man and the little man the same question.

“How long are we staying here?”

Both chorused “AS LONG AS WE ARE HAPPY HERE.”

As if they have been mentally rehearsing their answer since the first moment we slid the doors open.

As if they were aware that I was praying to hear the very same words.

I looked out the window trying to take it all in…

the smoke-scented air,

the soft swishy sound of the grass swaying in the meadow,

the barely audible sound of the crisp brown leaves dancing and twirling in the night wind as they cascade down the waiting tin roof,

the crickets’ incessant chirping in anticipation of the dewy mornings,

and the deafening silence of the moonlit skies.

Then it hit me. There in the middle of my half-awakened and half-meditative state,

HAPPINESS ISN’T SOMETHING ALGORITHMIC.

It is a conscious choice to be.

IT ISN’T CONTINGENT UPON LAVISHNESS OR AUSTERITY.

It is the triumph of contentment over ungratefulness.

And then, eons before my eyes succumb to sleep,

As if in a trance, I uttered a prayer of gratitude echoing back from the depths of my soul.

Yeah, this is my happy place too.

Guileless.

Unpretentious.

Uncomplicated.

Isn’t that how life should be?