A Moment of Bliss

I knew a guy once who categorized those times in your life when you feel truly happy. I forget his exact wording, but he labeled them "moments of contentedness," "moments of fullness," and "moments of bliss." I guess you could say he was a bit analytical.

Anyway, as he explained, everyone could expect a fair number of moments of contentedness in their life. Moments of fullness were less common, and moments of bliss were rare and to be cherished. A moment of bliss was a time when you felt that all was right with the world, and if everything stopped right now you would feel completely fulfilled. Oddly enough, these moments never seem to happen when you might expect, like at your own wedding or the birth of a child. Those times can be full of joy, but there are usually lots of worries and anxieties that creep in around the edges.

I was in my early thirties when he described this system to me, and as I looked back I remembered exactly three moments of bliss in my own life, the last being the summer after my graduation from college. Since that time I can think of two others.

I was actually thinking about this the other day, wondering if moments of bliss become rarer as you age. The Olympics were what made me consider this; the youth of the athletes and their ability to withstand such pressure at such a young age (Of course it may be exactly their youth that allows that). As I've gotten older, I'm more aware of what can go wrong, and more aware of my own fallibility. And, of course, I realize that even when I'm happy, all certainly isn't right with the world. But oddly enough, moments of contentedness and moments of fullness seem to occur more frequently as I age, perhaps because I'm so much happier with what I have than I used to be.

But last night, we were four days into our vacation and realizing that no, we did not need to pack up the car tomorrow and head home. The remainder of the week was longer than what had already passed. We had cut down a tree full of caterpillars, and so to get rid of them we had decided to get a fire permit and light the pile of brush that had accumulated over the summer. As the fire burned down, there were remnants of the sunset in the sky to the west, and we sat near the fire, listening to the sound of the lake and watching the bats start to fly around. The girls were thrilled, yelling "BAT!" each time one flew overhead (or "BACK!" in Clara's case). And I felt, this is it; this is all I will ever need out of life.