I believe that happiness is the well that every human being seeks to achieve. But this, continually dissatisfied, is rarely able to say that is happy, at least, completely happy.
But ultimately what makes us happy? Reflecting on the subject I think that happiness depends on each one and how to feel well.
I can not speak for others, I can only speak for myself. I learned that life is made of ups and downs and that happiness sometimes lies in small things, but not always realize their importance and how they contribute to our happiness.
I also learned that I can not consider myself unhappy, because simply I feel that lack complete some aspects in of my life. My happiness can not be complete (if that exists) but I'm a happy person, whether I feel sad sometimes.
What makes me feel happy?
- Know that I have a unconditional love of my family,
-I am healthy
- Have a house to collect me with some comfort;
- Have work;
- Feel useful;
- Have a friendship with someone;
- Anyone remember me;
- Receive a message from someone;
- Receiving a compliment; but, above all, feel that contributes to the happiness of someone. Yes, that makes me really happy is to feel that, I am helping others, is to feel that make others happy.
Julia is a young lady, happy and cheerful. A person with a generous heart. With a spirit still children.
Some time ago she was diagnosed with a rare type of cancer. But the doctors said that would have great chances of cure. She was just beginning its relationship with the boy who is now her husband. Julia underwent several sessions of chemotherapy. After lengthy treatment, and then further tests revealed that there was no more tumor.
Julia and Julio were married a year ago .. But unfortunately, the cancer manifested itself again.
Today she is with new sessions of chemotherapy and again facing the struggle to defeat this evil.
But finally, what I remember is that Julia is:
and through this faith she has the joy of living, which makes it an unbeatable warrior,
which makes her persevere in the Lord's promises,
God pours in her heart and keep it happy, happy. And that despite all the suffering she can pour that same love in our hearts. We who live with her, we know their struggles and difficulties. But every day the love of God is poured over and through most of her life.
Today Iam thankful for the life of Julia, with whom I have learned to live and fight.
Weak love, love strong, running through many barriers, but at one time trip,
Fall....and cannot rise again.
So many and all kind of love I knew there : UNCONDITIONAL LOVE. That through any kind of storm and obstacles, does not change its route , does not reduce its size, does not lose the weight, not allowa its brightness is eclipsed.
Only those who love unconditionally is possessed of a great soul and a benevolent heart.
Love is not live so overwhelmed. It do not have criteria for giving oneself, it is not required
To give up Exchange and reciprocity.
Unconditional love hás no pride . Not to one side of their hability, not its strength, no needto trumpet their esistence or demonstrate their immense universe. It’s just a purê love, unpretentiuos, just so it is great.
Generous hearts is living that kind of love.
Unconditional love, does not need to live in fantasieis or illusions to continue its patch. Is itself whole, not dying and often noneexistente in the eyes of others.
Blessed are those wo are whorty of beeing love unconditionally and happier still, those who allow themselves to love this.
Unconditional love is an art. To be loved unconditionally, a godsend.
1If I speak in the tongues[a] of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames,[b] but have not love, I gain nothing.
4Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
8Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. 11When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. 12Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
13And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
Home is a place not only of strong affections, but of entire unreserve; it is life's undress rehearsal, its backroom, its dressing room
Harriet Beecher Stowe
There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort.
Home is the one place in all this world where hearts are sure of each other. It is the place of confidence. It is the place where we tear off that mask of guarded and suspicious coldness which the world forces us to wear in self-defense, and where we pour out the unreserved communications of full and confiding hearts. It is the spot where expressions of tenderness gush out without any sensation of awkwardness and without any dread of ridicule.
Freedom is not merely the opportunity to do as one pleases; neither is it merely the opportunity to choose between set alternatives. Freedom is, first of all, the chance to formulate the available choices, to argue over them -- and then, the opportunity to choose.
In the morning,
When the rain comes down hard.
We can feel it ease into our bones
our skin, the back of our neck.
Gives us the chills.
We can smell it,
the copper taste in the air
rolls under our nostrils,
We can taste it.
It gets inside us
I love it.
The intimacy of rain drops
touching my face
soothes my need for attention;
stops any greed for invention,
In the sunlight,
everything looks black and white.
Contrast is king.
But in the rain,
the lines between us blur,
meld, like smoke.
Comfort in gray.
Some people need to go inside.
The rain makes them sad.
They need to go in and hide
from the intimate wet day and night.
They miss the lovely sound
of the pounding drops
on their windows;
the lovely sound
of drops on their doors,
the vibrant sound of water embracing them,
opening them like buds.
I ran into a stranger as he passed by,
"Oh excuse me please" was my reply
He said, "Please excuse me too;
I wasn't watching for you."
We were very polite, this stranger and I
We went on our way and we said goodbye
But at home a different story is told,
How we treat our loved ones, young and old
Later that day, cooking the evening meal,
My son stood beside me very still
When I turned, I nearly knocked him down
"Move out of the way," I said with a frown
He walked away, his little heart broken
I didn't realize how harshly I'd spoken
While I lay awake in bed,
God's still small voice came to me and said,
"While dealing with a stranger, common courtesy you use,
but the family you love, you seem to abuse
Go and look on the kitchen floor,
You'll find some flowers there by the door
Those are the flowers he brought for you
He picked them himself: pink, yellow and blue
He stood very quietly not to spoil the surprise,
you never saw the tears that filled his little eyes."
By this time, I felt very small,
And now my tears began to fall
I quietly went and knelt by his bed;
"Wake up, little one, wake up," I said
"Are these the flowers you picked for me?"
He smiled, "I found 'em, out by the tree
I picked 'em because they're pretty like you
I knew you'd like 'em, especially the blue."
I said, "Son, I'm very sorry for the way I acted today;
I shouldn't have yelled at you that way."
He said, "Oh, Daddy, that's okay
I love you anyway."
I said, "Son, I love you too,
and I do like the flowers, especially the blue."
Are you aware that, statistically, if we died tomorrow or if we were fired tomorrow, the company that we are working for could easily replace us in a matter of days or even hours? But the family we left behind will feel the loss for the rest of their lives.
And come to think of it, we pour ourselves more into work than into our own family, an unwise investment indeed, don't you think so? So what is behind the story?
I have been working on several things at once. One is recycling and renewing some objects, furniture and walls of my home. This type of change has given me inspiration for a new stage in my work. Discovering tastes, colors, textures certainly give a new style to it. After all, I have discovered lovely and talented people - other bloggers - who influenced me a lot. Well, I need not say much more ..... but I'm happy with the outcome of this transformation. Here are some of the changes of the "OLD" to the "NEW OLD" - SHABBY CHIC!