It's a parable disguised as wordplay. But the deeper you sit with it, the more it opens.
When we say "I want happiness," we're already describing the problem. The "I" — the self that insists on being the center — is the thing that makes happiness fragile. Because a self can be threatened, embarrassed, disappointed, compared. It can always lose what it has.
And "want" — desire — is by definition a state of not-having. You can't want something and have it at the same time. Every moment you spend wanting is a moment you spend in lack.
Remove those two things and what's left isn't emptiness. It's presence. Awareness. The quiet that was there all along underneath the grasping.
This is the hardest instruction in the world: stop requiring happiness to be delivered. Notice it's already here when you stop blocking it.
The question: What would you notice in your day today if you weren't busy wanting it to be different?
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