Living in a hippy mountain town like Flagstaff, I often see the bumper sticker that reads “Follow Your Bliss” and wonder: How do I do that? What is bliss?

This much I do know: bliss is different than comfort. I enjoy an ice-cream cone, I like my high thread count sheets, I enjoy watching movies on a big screen TV, but none of these bring me bliss, unless the ice-cream is a true pistachio Italian gelato. So, how do I follow my bliss, other than shipping out to Florence? I guess I should start by thinking about what I'm doing when bliss finds me.

Sunday, I went on a long hike with a girlfriend. We both had our girl babies asleep in their backpacks. We hiked shirtless, the dappled forest sun warm on our skin. We went across land out north from Flag, higher and higher through green meadows, some full of grazing deer. About two hours into our walk, we stopped, stunned silent by a huge meadow below us, exploding with gold sunflowers. Right at that moment, my daughter woke up, looked around, and spontaneously said “it so bootiful!” Then I felt it – bliss. Tears came to my eyes, partially for the beauty of the view, but just as much for my daughter's ability to recognize it, and that I could share it with her.

Most of my best memories involve running naked in the woods, camping with friends in remote locations, spontaneous dancing, full moons, bonfires, hot springs, outdoor yoga, meditation, poetry and love of one form or another. What do these things have in common? Usually, when the feeling of bliss comes over me, I've let go of my fears, anxieties, even my sense of self, and I'm in a state of just being, of just feeling. Dancing, yoga, running in the woods and other physical acts of this kind all have the added benefit of involving the entire body and mind in a way that shuts everything else out.

Being outside reminds me of how small my own existence is, and how much a small part of it all I am. The word “yoga” in sanskrit means “union” or “to unite,” and for me this is the best description of bliss. When I'm united with my own body, with other people, with the seasons, with my natural surroundings, that's when I feel bliss. There is so much to divide us: politics, competing interests, traffic (!) that to follow bliss is to work against the grain, to seek union.