And as you grow up you learn that happiness is not
that of great things.
It is not what one pursues at twenty,
when, as a charterer you fight the
world to emerge victorious …
Happiness is not what you frantically
pursues believing that love is everything
or nothing,…

It is not that of strong emotions that do the
“bang” and exploding out with thunder
spectacular …,
Happiness is not that of skyscrapers to
climb, of challenges to be overcome by putting yourself
continuously to the test.

Growing up you learn that happiness is made of
small but precious things …
And you learn the smell of coffee
in the morning is a little ritual of happiness, which
the notes of a song are enough, the sensations
of a book of colors that warm the heart,
that the aromas of a kitchen are enough, the
poetry of the painters of happiness, which is enough
your cat’s or your dog’s muzzle to hear
a slight happiness.

You learn that happiness is made of emotions in
tiptoe, of small explosions that in
muted widen the heart, that the stars give you
they can move the sun to make it shine
the eyes,
and you learn that it is a field of sunflowers you know
light up your face, that the scent of spring
wakes up from winter, and than sit down to read
in the shade of a tree it relaxes and frees the

And you learn that love is made of sensations
delicate, of small sparks in the stomach, of
presences close even if far away, and you learn that
time expands and that those 5 minutes are
precious and long more than many hours,
you learn that you just need to close your eyes,
ignite the senses, bake in the kitchen,
read a poem, write in the book or
look at a photo to undo the time and the
distance and be with those you love.

And you learn that hearing a voice on the phone,
receive an unexpected message, they are
little happy moments.
And you learn to have, in the drawer and in the heart,
small but precious dreams.

And you learn what to hold a baby in your arms
is a delicious happiness,
And you learn that the greatest gifts are the ones that
talk about the people you love …
And you learn that there is happiness in that too
urgency to write your thoughts on a piece of paper,
that there is something bitterly happy too
in melancholy.

And you learn that despite your defenses,
despite your will or your destiny,
in every flying seagull there is a heart in the heart
little Big
Jonathan Livingston.
And you learn how beautiful and big simplicity is.