“Tell me, when are you the happiest?”
“Why do you ask?”
You have to tell me because it will help you find out what you can do for the rest of your life apart from eating, breathing, sleeping... you know what I mean. You need to do something with your life, maybe a vocation even!
We can get to it if you can answer some simple questions. Okay?
Sure.
So, here goes.
You can pick these options if you cannot think of anything original.
“I am happiest when”,
a) I am with my family
b) I am doing something meaningful (travel, pursuing hobby, helping the poor, friends etc)
c) I am quiet
What is this? You are supposed to help me, not ask me daft questions.
You have to answer it.
Well, then my answer is “Depends”.
That is not an option.
It has to be, sometimes I am happy when I am just a witness to something that is out of the ordinary.
Like, for example?
You want me to tell you an “out of the ordinary” event which has made me happy?
Yes. Go on enlighten me.
Okay, you have to promise not to be prejudiced.
I’ll try.
Well, I’ll try and tell you the way it is. Jacob got this offer in one of Vienna’s finest restaurants as “head chef” or “Chef de Cuisine” as the French like to call it. Jacob started his career as line cook and it took him 20 years to move from line cook to “Assistant-chef”. “Delayed promotions” was his answer to missed opportunities. Nevertheless, “Chef De Cuisine” offers don’t come in everyday, so we packed and moved to Vienna. Our home there was in this beautiful picturesque suburban neighborhood, it was quiet and barely anything happened there, this can be quite un-nerving to a person who has lived all her life in New York. My immediate neighbor was Marie, she was a muralist and her house was her canvas, the central wall had the portrait of Raphael with a door to his shoulder and the two other walls had Michelangelo and Da Vinci. Her house was like an art museum; I’d wake up and see Raphael eyes peering down, which was quite spooky. Anyway, Marie also tutored some students but most days she worked on her walls. However, one day, I saw Marie sitting on the pavement under the streetlight and she was making these sketches on paper. Now, if it were New York, I would not have noticed her at all, but Marie and her quirks were out of place in that suburbia. By mid afternoon, she had her paints around her and she was intently on to something, I thought I must walk up to her but her intensity was intimidating. I wondered how everybody else in that lane reacted to Marie, perhaps they felt just as intimidated as I did or they conveniently ignored her, or maybe they were just too used to Marie. At around 11 Pm I peeped out of my window and saw Marie sitting very still, what could she still be doing at this unearthly hour? A few minutes later, I heard a shrill shriek; you know that animated scream when someone presumes to have seen a ghost. I jumped out of my bed and ran out and I saw this young girl run past Marie. Under that street light Marie looked still, she didn’t move, it didn’t look like she was breathing either. I called the police and I told them what had happened and in a while an officer knocked on my door and asked me what the problem was.
“Don’t you see that women there officer, look, under that street light. Marie, she is sitting so still, you have to help her, something is not right, she isn’t moving, don’t you see her?” I yelled pointing toward the light.
“Sure we do see a woman, and yes, she is still. We don’t expect murals to move in this country,” he said plainly as if it were common or it had all happened many times before.
“A mural” I said and walked toward the pavement and yes, it was a self-portrait.
Therefore, my dear Clara, I do not know what you will make of this story but, it is this “out of the ordinary” that makes me happy. I don’t have to be with my family, I don’t have to do something meaningful and neither do I have to be quiet. That moment there as witness to an unrecognized genius was when I was happiest and that is what I want to do as long as I live apart from eat, sleep, and breathe.
