Liz and the Dalai Lama

I guessed that it would make me happier. That being in absence from the things that were actively making me sad would free my spirit somehow. I guessed that my newly freed spirit would want to go in the direction of joy. When freed from the things tethering it down, it would drift effortlessly in the direction of a happy life.

I guessed wrong, I mean I should have known better. In theory, I am a happiness expert. I have read book after book dedicated to it. I have melted down words from His Holiness the Dalai Lama and poured them into me. Elizabeth Gilbert, I can recite her stories. Even the ones not largely known. I know all about her second divorce and that trip to Nepal. I've even read the biography of a catholic saint who found joy in a life so pitiful and short that she could help guide others to happiness. I don’t remember the details, because her life was truly that lackluster.

Nowhere in these books did they tell me to run from my problems. Quite the opposite actually. The Dalai Lama would tell me to look my fears in the face every day. Buddhists do say the secret to happiness is found in thinking about death daily.

I suppose Liz would condone my running away. She would tell me freedom would be briefly felt and then all of those problems from my past life would find me. These problems would travel with me to any corner of the earth and they would do their best to take back hold.

I know the Dalai Lama and Liz are right because I have lived it. I've tried to run from sadness and it does not work. My emotions of sadness and fear all have well-stamped international passports. They tag along behind me. I think I have forgotten to pack them but they root their way into my poorly folded clothes when I’m not looking.

And just when I go for the sweater that's stuffed into a wrinkly mess in the corner of my suitcase they leap out like a scared baby monkey. This time they will not release me so easy, because if they do, I will pack my bags and be on to the next destination again trying to outrun them.

These emotions would much rather ride on my shoulder in the seat of the plane than find their place in my luggage.