Possessing the Secret of Joy
There is something I know, that maybe you don’t.
Something about living, love, and happiness.
The lies they say about these things are thick like molasses,
they stick to you no matter how hard you try not to eat them.
They taste sweet, and you want to fill yourself up.
They tell you that other people will make you happy,
then you are alone and you wonder where to find who to find happy.
But nothing is difficult, nothing is hard if you know that love is not a possession.
There is mischief in your eyes, in the things you say you don’t know.
I will tell you that living is a chess game with missing pieces.
You’ve read the instructions, you know the game, but are you the one missing?
I’m missing my king, in the middle of the night, I miss being queen.
But love is not always love, not like we name it, and love does not always love.
And the joy we know is not ours to own, but something floating in the air.
You don’t contain love, it contains you.
And we all stand far away from it as if it is contagious.
It is a disease, and you can catch it by standing next to it for too long.
It is transferred through breath.
We breathe in love and breathe out all our sadness.
Joy is next door, but we don’t know how to knock on that door.
The special knock, the mysterious key that unlocks our real self,
is hidden inside us, inside the words we say, the thoughts we think.
Chardhikala, the word for joy in Punjabi.
Chardhikala, Chardhikala, sing it in your shower.
Sing it on the way to the world, in your car.
Sing it loud and clear, because it recognizes its name.
It will come to you only when it is recognized,
as the true force, the real truth behind your truth.
In the end, you may find that bliss blurs with beauty
and becomes a triangle of truth:
Remember your happiness, love, and living.
Remember you came here to know this,
and only this.