Traumatic Happiness?

There's a stretch of sidewalk that passes by the Korean Supreme Court on the way to my school that I walk every day (M-F). It's lined with evergreens, and more importantly the detritus of their shed needles, worn away, eroded from the towering pines, creating a carpet of brown needles elevated above the sidewalk by a rising wall with a barricade of sorts, undoubtedly designed to keep the debris from the busy pedestrian and adjacent street traffic. On days when the rain is held at bay, and the wind coming down the gentle grade is not too severe, I can catch the scent of dying decaying needles and every time I recollect an era of childhood that I've forever associated with that wonderful aroma.

It's odd that dying evergreens remind me of the beach, but when I was young we used to visit a family cottage at Wasaga Beach on Georgian Bay. The path we walked to get to the water was a mix of sand and evergreen needles, being lined with pines, and always held that distinctive smell that I've cherished ever since. I have a scar on my knee from kneeling on glass at that beach, and so when I walk this busy Seoul sidewalk to work, and chance to smell the beach, I think of kneeling on a shard of glass too. Still the pain is gone, and only the memory of warmth, sun and sand remains in the recollection.

I've been thinking a lot about other memories. Some less pleasant, most... all, and because of that fact, I'm wondering why I can't duplicate that same experience with the evergreens and the beach to the other blessings I've enjoyed in life, abundant as they are. It struck me that most of my most vivid memories include some manner of trauma. Even the beach with the physical scar has that association, but the scar has lost its significance, and only the joy remains. I wonder if I can, in time, expect the same of the other scars, visible, or not so much, to simply point the way to the joys that led to their making, and forget the pain that still seems, at times, more potent than the pleasures.

Ideally, I'd like to have the pleasures to cherish without the suffering... but the propensity of traumatic recollection makes that seem less likely, unless of course I can find a means of obtaining traumatic joy, getting absolutely wrecked by happiness, and make the two the same. I don't want to sound masochistic. I'm not. I think most times that I have that in my realm of experience already, it will just take a little more time to see it because I keep picking at the wound. If I could leave the things alone, let them heal, I'd see that I've been more traumatized by the joys than these insignificant bumps and bruises profess.

Ultimately, I'm not driven by a desire for instances of momentary happiness, however repeatable or frequent they could be, but a deeper sense of peace, fulfilled purpose, and joy. The differences may be semantic, but I'm not going to get into meanings and definitions now, just know that I differentiate between the transience of a moment and the knowledge of enduring eternal elements.

That's all for now... time for class.

- Foster