At least since the 80s, I've heard people talk about going to their "Happy Place". It never meant anything to me- what the hell's a "Happy Place"? Chuck E Cheese? Disneyland?
So I asked people what their HP was, and got a variety of answers- a garden, their childhood backyard, a bubble bath, a treehouse, their bedroom back home, a summer camp the whole family used to go to... lots of associations to their safest and free-est times. I couldn't relate to any of those and so assigned my HP to a New Year's waltzing with my husband on South Street pier for a while. But in light of how all that turned out, it's not a good place to ponder on. So I put it away. Who needs a Happy Place anyway?
Well about a month ago I did. And surprise, surprise, my Happy Place is Madison Square Garden. Of all places. I went there to see circuses and kiddie things with my Dad. And then the best times, the happiest and safest I ever felt in my life- at giant rock concerts- were there. The second Happy Place? Radio City Music Hall. The movies and shows there, and memories of very happy times, are there. There is no bad associated with either place. Pure joy.
Now I know why people want a Happy Place. If you don't have one, it'll appear when you need one. Kinda like a Patronus. It chases Dementors away. And makes you take life less seriously, which we all need to do.
An Alarming Situation.
16 hours ago