Skip to main content

Beyond Happiness

In this episode, Beyond Happiness: How Beauty Unlocks True Joy . . .

While pedaling through Southern California's beautiful, golden hills this past weekend, a question gently surfaced: "Why does this feel so good? And why settle for happiness when you can experience something far deeper?" Fifty-five years in the making, this ride was about to offer an answer.

At 14, I first discovered the incredible freedom of riding a bicycle—the exhilarating thrill of the wind rushing past me, the soothing rhythm of my breathing, and the beautiful feeling of truly being in the world, not just passing through it. All these years later, I treasure my rides, waking up early on quiet weekends to embrace the morning on two wheels.

But today's ride was different.

The spring air was clean, calm, and textured with the scent of new blossoms. The mustard plants were in bloom — California’s golden fireworks — and the hills were lit with color, like a living Van Gogh. I could feel happiness bubbling up: a childlike glee in the sheer aliveness of it all.

As the golden light warmed my skin and the scent of new blossoms filled the air, the bubbling happiness began to transform. It wasn't just a thrill but a quiet deepening, profound recognition. Here, amidst the beauty, joy was beginning.

I realized that riding and observing beautiful sights can evoke a sense of connection to a deeper state of being that is often overlooked in daily life.

John O’Donohue, the Irish poet and philosopher, wrote that:

“When we awaken to the call of beauty, we become aware of new ways of being in the world.” — Beauty: The Invisible Embrace

Beauty is more than something pleasing to the eye. It’s a call — a nudge from the world and the soul to wake up. And when we listen, something in us shifts. Happiness may be the surface sparkle, but joy is what happens when the soul answers beauty’s call.

Joy isn't excitement. It isn't even comfort. It's a quiet depth — an invisible embrace — that says, 'This is who you are when you're most alive.'

After decades of cycling, my body knows these motions, my muscles remember every hill, every descent. The rhythm of my breath has become a meditation. This deep familiarity opens the door to presence—to a state where I don’t have to think, I simply get to feel.

And in that quiet feeling — the soft rush of wind, the hum of tires, the call of a bird — joy arrives. It doesn’t shout. It doesn’t insist. It simply is.

Let's ask a few more questions: What if we allow beauty to guide us deeper?

What if we didn’t rush past the mustard hills, the ocean air, or a friend's laughter?

What if we paused long enough to let happiness settle — and become joy?

The next time something moves you — a splash of color, the whisper of a breeze, the echo of a friend's laughter — pause. Ask yourself: Is this simply happiness, or is this your soul remembering something older, truer, and infinitely more lasting?

I invite you to explore that difference in your life. For more information, check out John O’Donohue’s book Beauty–The Invisible Embrace.

I'm Patrick Ball. Stay curious, ask questions. See you in the next episode.

Labels:

Comments

Don Hanley said…
A beautiful meditation, Patrick - thank yoou!!
May 17, 2025 at 11:26 AM
Post a Comment

Most Popular of All Time

Paris – the End of Silence

✈️  In this special episode: Paris – the End of Silence Sometimes, connection arrives in the most unexpected form—not through grand gestures, but through a quiet voice carried by technology. In a Paris apartment, I finally understood my family’s words . . . and felt my mother’s presence in every sentence. Since I was a little boy, France has been both a beautiful and frustrating paradox in my life. Every six to nine years, my mother, Mauricette, would take my brothers and me back to La Rochelle to visit our French family. The moment we arrived, the air would fill with a sound I loved but couldn’t share in—the rapid-fire, musical rhythm of French. My aunts, uncles, and cousins would warmly sweep me into hugs and kisses, their words flowing like a lovely melody I couldn’t quite catch. I’d smile brightly, trying to communicate with my eyes and hands. But as soon as we stepped off the plane, my mother and her sister-in-law, Joséan, started talking animatedly. They were gone, chatting h...
2 comments
Read more

Pushing the Pause Button

In this episode, Pushing the Pause Button: Stepping Off the Treadmill Hello, friends — If you're reading this, I'm already off the grid. Today begins a much-needed vacation, and for the next few weeks, On the Fly is taking a break right along with me. For a long time, my inner voice has said, 'Keep every commitment, no matter what.' That's meant early mornings, long days, and a calendar packed with posts, podcasts, and projects I couldn't seem to say no to. I've been trying to be the tireless workhorse—but that kind of grind doesn't end well. Lately, I've noticed I'm not quite myself—shorter fuse, louder sighs, and a few too many grumbles (Lori deserves a medal). That's when you know it's time to hit pause before the spark burns out. So, I'm stepping back to rest, recharge, and remember what it feels like to not live by the next deadline: no tech, no to-do lists, just some space to breathe. Thank you, truly, for all your support and ...
2 comments
Read more

The Friday Morning Pause

In this episode,  The Friday Morning Pause: When My Brother’s Bookshelf Called Me to Stillness We live in a world allergic to stillness. Our mornings begin mid-sprint—thumbs scrolling before our eyes even open. The impulse to jump into the digital chaos is immediate. But sometimes, stillness finds you . It was early Friday morning. We’d arrived late the night before, stepping into the cool air before the day turned hot. Half-awake, I reached for my phone—emails, headlines, social feeds waiting like a morning buffet of distraction. We were in Cuba. No Wi-Fi. No 5G. No password. Just stillness, disguised as inconvenience. Instead, I caught sight of something unexpected: a small stack of books on my brother’s TV shelf. My brother and his wife are powered by perpetual motion. They are the definition of overscheduled and overstimulated. Yet there it was: Stillness Is the Key by Ryan Holiday, quietly mocking my scrolling habit. The irony was perfect. I put my phone down—a small, delibe...
Post a Comment
Read more

Noirmoutier: An Ocean Between Us, Gone in a Moment

In this episode, Noirmoutier: An Ocean Between Us, Gone in a Moment. Sometimes love waits half a century for its moment — and when it finally arrives, time doesn’t stand still; it disappears. The moment I stepped off the train in Nantes, it felt like time froze. There she was — my cousin Michèle — waiting on the platform, arms waving desperately. When we finally embraced, the fifty years that had passed between us disappeared in an instant. The melody in her voice was the same, but softer than I remembered. We both shed tears of joy that only come from love long overdue. “I’m so happy you are here,” she whispered, her voice trembling.   Thank goodness for the translation app on my phone, because the conversation began immediately — fast, fluid, and unstoppable. The Frenzy of Catching Up As we drove for about an hour to the tiny town of L’Épine on the Island of Noirmoutier, the words kept tumbling out. Michèle and her husband, Alain, are the most gracious hosts — but my new challe...
1 comment
Read more