Happiness and forgetting

In his book, 'Other Colors', Orhan Pamuk devotes two short pages to happiness. Surely, he begins, it must seem vulgar to write about happiness in light of humanity's daily transgressions of violence and degradation. He goes on to describe a day on the beach with his child. He starts at the beginning - the preparation, the anticipation, and ends at the end - driving home together. Like so many things that give us that indescribable sense of fulfillment, at once deep and impossibly light, it's a ritual. Rituals (not habits), that mark our time in the clock of the world give us happiness.

Rituals of
intimacy (friendships, relationships, love, sex);
solitude (such as the one I'm performing now);
production (work); and
nourishment (putting on make-up, cooking, reading, eating).

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Every time I look at my tattoo, I remember that I've earned it, and that sooner or later, it'll be time for the next one.