In my early 30s, I fell head over heels for the drummer of a popular New Zealand band. I use the word ‘stupidly’ because my actions around him weren’t those of a typical person in love but more like someone who had suffered a mild head injury. Being with him was like living in a euphoric haze, the kind of high you’d expect from party drugs.
Some days, I would step out of his house into the bright sunlight, feeling a deep connection with the world around me. Everything seemed beautiful—the litter in the gutter, the rows of letterboxes, children walking home from school, the heat of the asphalt under my sandals, and the unmistakable scent of an Auckland summer. It was a mixture of car exhaust, fresh grass clippings, and the sea breeze.
But like any euphoric high, it wasn’t meant to last. Eventually, I returned to a more stable emotional state, a journey through ups and downs that would occupy much of my 30s. This time, I found inspiration for my poem sequence, “Happiness.”
In the first part of the poem, I reflect on a new relationship I’ve entered, one that feels more sustainable. I discuss the challenges of finding contentment in a healthy relationship when you’re accustomed to love’s dramatic swings. I also ponder the true meaning of happiness. It’s a word we use so often, but what do we really mean when we say it? Happiness can describe contentment, joy, satisfaction, or a sense of completion. We use it to express everything from the joy of a pay rise to the pleasure of biting into a custard donut.
The poem unfolds in three parts, with the other sections touching on themes of loneliness and anxiety. As a poet, I always seek to understand what lies beneath any emotional state. We often talk about moods shifting, but what causes these changes? Why can the same thing or person make us feel happy, sad, anxious, or safe at different times? We tend to label emotions as either good or bad, but I’ve come to realize that all emotions have value. I try not to fight my difficult emotions anymore. If I’m feeling sad, I let myself cry more, letting the emotion flow until it passes.
On better days, when I sense that elusive feeling of happiness, I try not to overanalyze it. I’ll look out the window of my house in Castlecliff, Whanganui, where blackbirds soar above and clouds drift past the rooftops. I allow myself to savor every moment that happiness stays with me.
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