Bliss is like a natural high.
It feels amazing. I can remember snapshot moments of pure bliss. A light spring breeze across a shaded hammock. A drive with the windows down as the music sets the perfect mood for the winding country roads. A deep conversation with friends about life against the backdrop of a cool summer night. Those are just a few moments.
But those moments felt so right that I just instinctively started to chase the feeling.
It's easy to become obsessed it. I don't think I'm alone in this. In fact, I think culture might even be addicted to bliss. Because it feels amazing. It feels right. The problem is bliss is shallow. It has no roots. It's here one moment, and in the next it evaporates with the gentlest breeze.
Contentment, on the other hand, has some substance to it. The harshness of life tries to cave in around it, yet there it stands unshaken. Contentment is rooted in something deeper than whatever moment it finds itself in. Bliss has to hide from hard truths to stay alive, but contentment bravely faces reality with a quiet dignity. Bliss is passing moment to enjoy, but contentment is a strength to draw from.
So the question I have to ask myself is:
Am I growing into contentment or just chasing bliss?
Pizza enthusiast but pineapple nonbeliever. Intellectually aspirational but emotionally unpredictable. Usually happy but sometimes sad.
Going after God.