STALK HAPPINESS RATHER THAN JOINING PURSUIT

Would you rather pursue something or stalk it? Your answer, of course, would be "Depends on what it is."

Well, let us consider happiness. Our Declaration of Independence says it is man's inalienable right to pursue happiness.

When we speed-oriented Americans think of the word pursue, we generally think of speed such as "They followed the robber in hot pursuit," or "Here comes Whirlaway in pursuit of the Triple Crown." The one maybe killing some innocent person along the way, the other, not seeing anything but the rear of the horse in front of him.

I wonder if the Declaration of Independence had said man has a right to stalk happiness rather than pursue if more people would find it.

I wouldn't change the dear, old Declaration with its familiar words but, somehow, I like stalking, in the sense that you're patient enough to follow tracks, study signs, backtrack if necessary, explore sideroads, not with the ultimate purpose of capturing a prey as in hunting, but finding the object of your desire.

Pursuit, in our twentieth century connotation, is just too fast a word for me. If we pursue, say happiness, we're likely, in our haste, to run over someone and leave them bleeding emotionally behind us. Or, like running with blinders on, we might miss that beautiful little house down the lane, half hidden in climbing roses, the sheep on a green hillside or the cloud that looks like the Alamo, the Eiffel Tower or Santa Claus' profile, all yours by right of eminent eye domain. We might win the prize, a medal on a ribbon, but have only dim memories of the things we saw or did along the way, except run, run, run in hot pursuit.

One Psalmist indicates there is a fragrant path of life down which we may choose to be led. I love that description. This is not fragrant as in lilacs or trailing arbutus, but fragrant with contentment and satisfaction, not wasting ourselves away wishing to do what cannot be done now but accepting limitations, tragedies and disappointments as valid parts of life just as medications and hospital stays are parts of recovery from an illness. This is stalking.

Finding pleasure in just glimpsing the bluebird, not capturing it, this is stalking. Hearing the owl hoot, not shooting it, is stalking.

Author-actress Joanna Barnes puts is something like this. If we don't get our hands on the pot of gold, we may collect enough nuggets along the way to equal the contents of the pot. This is stalking.

By focusing your mind on love, friendship, peace, home, music, laughter, beauty, this is stalking happiness.

This is June-time, crown jewel of the year. Let us stalk some beauty. Go to the rose garden and see some bud of the Camelot rose in the process of unfolding. Slip down to the riverfront at a pre-dawn hour and watch the sun come up from behind the green willows, turning the river to a ribbon of pink satin and then putting a bridge of liquid gold across it.

Find a park, yard or field full of white clover and walk through it, or sit in the midst of the blossoms. The subtle perfume is the essence of summer and is an air additive to help the bees from blossom to blossom.

Stalk a spring. Ask friends, tourists, guides, hikers where one might be found. Look around old abandoned home sites. It was because of a spring that a home was built there. If you find one you'll probably see fiddlehead ferns along the bank, unrolling right before your eyes if you tarry a bit. Maybe a frog in the spring branch will look up at you and you'll swear it winked.

After a rain-washed world, stay up long enough to see the reassuring stars, right there in their familiar places, not breaking up into new maps of ethnic groupings.

In the Bootheel cornfields measure the daily growth of the green, green corn. "Why only last week it was knee high!"

All these nuggets you'll find while stalking happiness, almost guaranteed to amount to what you will find in the pot of gold should you pursue it at a hot speed.

REJOICE!