NZ Kaminsky's Blog, page 2
June 3, 2025
Happiness Hides in Moments We Miss
I used to think happiness was a place I could get to and stay. Like if I just worked hard enough, or healed enough, or fixed enough things inside me, I’d finally arrive.
But happiness isn’t a destination. It’s a visitor.
Sometimes it’s loud, sometimes it’s silent.
Sometimes it’s just the relief of making it through a hard day.
The truth is, life isn’t about reaching some perfect, permanent state. It’s about noticing the moments we usually miss.
I think happiness is never about the absence of suffering, because that’s unrealistic, right? It's about our ability to move through it. Every moment, every emotion, every season of our lives is impermanent. Good or bad. I find that impermanence is comforting, in a way.
I feel like life is made of moments.
“Life is about moments” — that’s a line from my novel 'Sense of Home', a story that blends literary fantasy with metaphysical exploration. It follows Tyra as she navigates loss, change, and inner transformation, guided by whimsical creatures and lucid dreams that blur the lines between fiction and reality, helping her heal even the deepest wounds.
Natalie
But happiness isn’t a destination. It’s a visitor.
Sometimes it’s loud, sometimes it’s silent.
Sometimes it’s just the relief of making it through a hard day.
The truth is, life isn’t about reaching some perfect, permanent state. It’s about noticing the moments we usually miss.
I think happiness is never about the absence of suffering, because that’s unrealistic, right? It's about our ability to move through it. Every moment, every emotion, every season of our lives is impermanent. Good or bad. I find that impermanence is comforting, in a way.
I feel like life is made of moments.
“Life is about moments” — that’s a line from my novel 'Sense of Home', a story that blends literary fantasy with metaphysical exploration. It follows Tyra as she navigates loss, change, and inner transformation, guided by whimsical creatures and lucid dreams that blur the lines between fiction and reality, helping her heal even the deepest wounds.
Natalie
Mindful reading and healing through immersive storytelling
What if the men in romantic stories are not just characters... but keys to our healing?
I’ve been reflecting on an archetypal truth:
That many women throughout history, Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë, and others, were not just writing romantic heroes or gothic figures…
Maybe, they were writing their way toward wholeness. Toward reclaiming trust in the Masculine. Toward meeting the inner man they never met in the outer world.
When a woman writes a man who is emotionally available, mature, protective, supportive, and attuned, she’s not escaping reality. She’s rewriting it. She’s reshaping her psyche. She’s giving her nervous system and her heart a new imprint — one of safety, sovereignty, and connection.
This is not fantasy. This is inner alchemy.
The stories we write or read can become medicine.
They can help us meet the Animus, the inner masculine, in his healed form.
Not as the critic, the aggressor, or the cold, absent father...
But as a partner, a protector, a stable presence who says:
"I got you. You are safe. You are whole
And maybe this is how we stop repeating the old patterns, inside and out.
To all the women writing or reading novels, poetry, or even daydreaming of love that heals:
You are on the path of the sacred scribe.
You are healing your lineage through immersive storytelling.
If I were a character in a book, I’d hope the pages would whisper:
“Her Animus, once an internalized tyrant, becomes her guardian, her supporter, her beloved, when she gives him a healthy form through a rewritten story.”
Natalie
Natalie
I’ve been reflecting on an archetypal truth:
That many women throughout history, Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë, and others, were not just writing romantic heroes or gothic figures…
Maybe, they were writing their way toward wholeness. Toward reclaiming trust in the Masculine. Toward meeting the inner man they never met in the outer world.
When a woman writes a man who is emotionally available, mature, protective, supportive, and attuned, she’s not escaping reality. She’s rewriting it. She’s reshaping her psyche. She’s giving her nervous system and her heart a new imprint — one of safety, sovereignty, and connection.
This is not fantasy. This is inner alchemy.
The stories we write or read can become medicine.
They can help us meet the Animus, the inner masculine, in his healed form.
Not as the critic, the aggressor, or the cold, absent father...
But as a partner, a protector, a stable presence who says:
"I got you. You are safe. You are whole
And maybe this is how we stop repeating the old patterns, inside and out.
To all the women writing or reading novels, poetry, or even daydreaming of love that heals:
You are on the path of the sacred scribe.
You are healing your lineage through immersive storytelling.
If I were a character in a book, I’d hope the pages would whisper:
“Her Animus, once an internalized tyrant, becomes her guardian, her supporter, her beloved, when she gives him a healthy form through a rewritten story.”
Natalie
Natalie
