I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud

On Sunday, I watched a movie on the brief life of Ian Curtis called "Control". Co-produced by his wife Deborah Curtis, the film follows the evolution of the Joy Division lead singer from nobody to post-punk cult figure. "Control" revealed Ian Curtis to be a troubled young musician, plagued by epileptic episodes, a failed marriage and depression in spite of his growing success as a performer. In the end, he committed suicide at the young age of 23.

Is life really that unbearable? Is there nothing to look forward to? Why can't we embrace life's experiences be they pain or pleasure? Doesn't life continue to surprise us in big and small ways? Who knows what Ian Curtis might have achieved in his life had he continued living.

Wordsworth expresses happiness in small pleasures beautifully:

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed---and gazed---but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

~ William Wordsworth