Pure Happiness, In the Smallest Moments

 Sometimes, I feel like we’ve forgotten what pure happiness actually feels like, not the kind we chase or expect to arrive with big moments, but the quiet, fleeting kind that sneaks up on us, those few seconds that pass before we even realize we’re smiling. Moments that seem small, maybe even insignificant to others, but feel like everything to us. Happiness is different for each person. It might be that one song you haven't heard in years, and suddenly, as it plays, something deep in you stirs, memories, emotions, a strange sense of comfort that you didn’t even know you were missing. Or maybe it's the way a smell or taste brings you back, like a dish someone dear to you used to make, and for just a moment, you're there again, wrapped in warmth.

Sometimes, happiness comes in unexpected words from someone you don’t even know that well, words you’ve been longing to hear from someone else, but never did. And yet, when you hear them from a stranger or in a random conversation, they hit you, deep. There’s something sacred about those moments, like the universe reminding you it sees you, even when people don’t. And I think, somewhere along the way, we started to worry too much about everything else, about doing, fixing, proving, and stopped tending to our inner world. We forgot that we are not just bodies trying to survive the day, but souls that need light, space, and gentleness. There’s no balance anymore, it's either too much or not enough. We rarely find the middle.

I keep coming back to the small things, the ones that used to make me smile when I was little. I still catch myself pausing in the early morning, watching how the sunlight spills through the trees like liquid gold. And I think, how can something so simple be so breathtaking? It’s like nature reminding me that beauty doesn’t scream for attention, it just exists, quietly, for anyone willing to stop and see. I don’t know if anyone will really understand this, but when I visited Thessaloniki, we went down to the catacombs beneath the Church of Saint Demetrios. They’ve been there since the earliest Christian times. I walked through those tunnels knowing people once hid, prayed, cried, hoped in that very same place. My hand touched the cold, worn stone walls, walls that have absorbed centuries of stories and pain and faith. It was a feeling I still can't quite put into words, like stepping into living history, sacred, strange, unforgettable.

And then there's that indescribable joy of making someone laugh, really laugh, from the heart. When someone you care about smiles because of something you did, not to impress them but just to be kind, it’s like the world makes a little more sense in that moment. I think, in a way, that’s one of the purest kinds of happiness, to give without expecting, to offer warmth without asking for it back. So even if your day has been heavy or numb or chaotic, just find one moment, one breath, one small second where you let yourself feel joy. Let it be yours. Let it remind you that you are still here, still alive, still capable of smiling.

And maybe that's the point, we keep searching for some grand meaning, some permanent state of happiness, and forget that it's often found in fragments. In the way someone says your name. In the softness of your blanket after a long day. In the way rain sounds when you're safe at home. We’re so used to chasing wholeness that we miss the little pieces that were always enough on their own.

There’s something incredibly powerful in remembering yourself, not the version others expect, not the version that performs, but the real you, the one who used to laugh without guilt, cry without shame, and find joy in the most random things. Maybe it's time to return to that, to stop trying so hard to be fine all the time and instead ask ourselves, “What made me feel alive today?” Even if it was only for a moment.

Have you ever just looked up at the sky and felt small, but in a good way? Like, for a brief moment, you understood your place in this vast, messy, beautiful world. It humbles you. It reminds you that not everything needs to be fixed. Some things are just meant to be felt.

And honestly, maybe the only thing we really need to do is make space, for slowness, for softness, for the things that don’t have a purpose other than to make us feel something real. We deserve that. We need that.

So this is your reminder, don’t wait for happiness to come dressed as something big and shiny. Let it find you in the little things. Let it surprise you. Let it soften you. There is no problem without its solution, just like there is no shadow without light. They both exist together. You are allowed to feel both. You are allowed to simply be.

Nena