Paint

The smell of paint

The Polyphonic Spree

Fresh laundry

Improvised mattresses

Wonder

Hubble 3D and kelp forests

I am so far gone. I am so deeply happy in moments that I cannot even figure out what to do with myself. I'm a mess, I'm disorganized and behind on work. I have more to do than can seemingly get done. But I look at it all and I could cry for how happy I am. Just to be here. To have this -- all of this incredible existence at my fingertips. It seems impossible for anyone to have this much to be happy about, but that's the thing: we all have the same thing, in every moment, to be grateful for. There are a million personal details and complications to factor in, but the basics are still all there. The basics are worth some thanks.

The basics, the air we breath and the fact that our bodies function, the vastness of the cosmos and the way clouds change shape so slowly and so quickly at the same time, the way fresh laundry feels when you dump it out on your bed and lie in it's warmth even if it means some things will be wrinkly. The way that toddlers look in the Science Center, so beautiful, perfect and untouched and hopeful and amazed. The feel of wet paint on your fingers and palms and face, the movement of halibuts into the sand. Just being allowed to see these are worth the biggest thanks I can imagine.

I am so deep into happiness and truth that I can barely imagine my thoughts of years past, of forgetting how to talk and smile and give thanks. Forgetting those things was the scariest experience I've ever had. Forgetting how to be happy, or what happy was. But I know in such sincerity what happiness is now, what it feels like to turn off the lights and still see everything so clearly, to listen to the rain and love it for falling. I know so honestly what happiness is that I cannot imagine forgetting again. It's like compound happiness. Singing Sublime on the way to Hillel and loving the sounds for existing

There is so much, and I am so in love.