Happiness by Raymond Carver
MARGINALIA • SKIP TO THE POEM
1.
Is it still possible to be happy, I ask myself, staring at a blank page. At a time when grief and loss have embraced the world, the most I’ve seen—at least in my lifetime. Is it possible, I ask no one in particular, looking at the moon. At the sky that still looks beautiful night after night after night.
2.
What does it mean to be happy then, I ask him, earnest and pleading, for what I don’t really know. You have me, he says. And I have you. It is really that simple.
3.
Trust the timing of your life, I always tell myself. Perhaps to be happy is to just be here. Perhaps that is enough.
Merry Christmas.
Happiness
Raymond CarverSo early it’s still almost dark out.
I’m near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren’t saying anything, these boys.I think if they could, they would take
each other’s arm.
It’s early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn’t enter into this.Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.
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This poem appeared in All of Us by Raymond Carver, published by Vintage Contemporaries, 1996. Shared here with profound gratitude.
Read more works by Raymond Carver • Find books by this poet • Or view my library
Explore poems in pursuit of: awe • grace • praise • Or browse the index
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deborahbrasket
i love your thoughts at the beginning of this post, even more than Raymond’s poem below .I think you might be right. Being here, having each other, having the moon, night after night, may be all the happiness we would ever need.
Merry Christmas to you too!
Kristal
Is it still possible to be happy? I think it is, if you can first find peace, which simply means the acceptance of not knowing or understanding why things are as they are. As Mary Oliver wrote: “Though I play on the edges of knowing, truly I know our part is not knowing, but looking, touching and loving…”. Merry Christmas to you, too!
Sigrun
Beautiful, thank you!
Sahir.
What a lovely poem. Thanks for this. Meditations on happiness always strike me as both a little hollow and intrinsic. One of my favourite sequences from the film 20th Century Women features the protagonist asking his mother, ‘Are you happy?’ She replies, ‘Seriously? Wondering if you’re happy is the easiest way to be sad.’ In our very self-conscious/-aware times, are we ever happy without being aware of the happiness anymore? I don’t know.