You’ll carry your happiness in small quanta: making sure the world sees it, admires it and adopts it. You will want to keep it safe in your arms and in your eyes, and still want to be able to spread it far and wide. You will want to take it to fields for it to be one with the gold of the corn, and to the oceans in order that it could produce pearls for a wandering swimmer; you will want to offer it to a meandering gust of wind so it could enrich the world along its path, or to a neighbor going through a rough patch so as to make his day. You will be addicted to the idea of happiness and be in awe of the love it can create. And propagate. In your confusion of the darkness of the world, and in your quest for finding out why, you’ll come across occasional dunes of sand and storms of dust. You’ll want to cure the outburst by sowing in the soil the only seeds you ever knew – those of happiness and joy.
There was no way you would know, let alone recognize, the thorns that could grow out of what you called Happiness. There was no way you would know that they hurt when you try to caress them. That’s when you will painfully realize how it isn’t the fault of the seeds you sow, but the weakness of the soil which can’t take it.