on happiness: fly in the direction of your own light

until it becomes your nature to choose what feels true over what feels easy

happiness doesn’t arrive by luck or approval; it’s by the quiet work of knowing what you want and finding the courage to pursue it. most people settle for ease, for predictability, for what doesn’t ask too much of them, but the real pulse of life begins when you stop negotiating with your own longing. remember what stirs something in you, even if you pretend not to. remember what you keep dreaming about when no one’s watching.

creation, of a life, a dream, a self, is never comfortable. it demands risk, loss, and a willingness to outgrow your old definitions. the reward is the fierce clarity that comes when you realize you are allowed to shape your own existence. no one can grant you that permission. it’s an act you perform for yourself, again and again, until it becomes your nature to choose what feels true over what feels easy.

you don’t need the world’s validation to begin. you only need to trust that the small, persistent voice inside you is worth following. you build happiness not by chasing what’s expected, but by crafting what’s honest. and when you do, you start to see that the life you want isn’t waiting somewhere out there — it’s waiting for you to start living it.

“wings of the morning” edward robert hughes

we spend years learning how to silence ourselves. how to reason away our hunger, how to call it unrealistic or inconvenient. but desire isn’t the enemy; it’s the compass. the things that pull at you aren’t random. they’re invitations to return to yourself, to remember what it feels like to live with purpose instead of passivity. when you start listening to that pull, the noise of comparison fades, and what remains is something raw and unmistakably yours.

it takes courage to protect that truth. the world rewards imitation more than honesty, and comfort has a way of disguising itself as safety. but ease is not the same as peace. there’s a quiet ache that comes from staying where you don’t belong, from pretending satisfaction where there is only stillness. the longer you wait, the heavier it becomes: that knowing you’ve built a life that doesn’t quite fit.

every time you choose what’s true, you begin again. stop waiting for permission and start living for what calls to you.

i hope you listen when your life starts asking for more. i hope you trust the pull of what feels alive, even when it doesn’t make sense yet. i hope you let your curiosity lead you somewhere new, somewhere wide and unpromised, somewhere that feels like breath after holding it for too long. i hope you build from what feels true, not what feels safe. i hope you let yourself expand beyond what you’ve been told is enough. i hope you meet your own becoming with open hands — patient, certain, willing to keep trying. i hope you fill your days with small things that remind you of wonder — morning light on your skin, laughter that interrupts the noise, silence that feels like peace instead of absence. i hope you practice being here fully, even when it’s imperfect. i hope you keep saying yes to what stirs something in you. i hope you make beauty out of your courage, meaning out of your movement, and a life that feels like your own.

a prompt: what truth about what you really want have you been avoiding — and what would happen if you finally honored it?
☼ write down three things you keep wanting but haven’t allowed yourself to name.
☼ circle the one that feels most alive, not the most logical, but the one that stirs something.
☼ take one small action today that moves you toward it. not a leap, a step. something real enough to remind you that you’re already becoming.

with love from the stillroom,
cibelle