On Bliss

Katria Wyslotsky

I’ve spent the past few days considering what I have come to understand as or believe to be bliss. What is it about bliss that makes life worth living? What is it about bliss that makes us smile like lunatics, sigh in ultimate contentment, and cry tears of joy? Just what exactly is this thing we call bliss?

Bliss, as you mature and change, alters itself to better suit your needs and life. As children, my brother and I believed that perfect bliss was my grandmother’s home in New Jersey. She and my aunt lived in the first floor apartment and my parents, brother, and I lived on the second floor. The yard seemed to be enormous, full of cubby holes in which to hide, and there were always kittens, little multicolored kittens that seemed to miraculously appear out of nowhere and were then smuggled into the house to play with. The pool was an old nickel wash tub my grandmother had used to launder clothing in before she purchased a washer that had evil looking ringers to squeeze the water out of the clothes. Sometimes, during the spin cycle, it would vibrate so hard that the washer appeared to be walking towards us which would send us shrieking up the stairs to the safety of the kitchen. (more…)