I follow my bliss. I experience my bliss. I become my bliss.

Bliss is a large word for something fairly plain: the activity where you forget to eat lunch.

For one person it is rebuilding a carburetor. For another it is the hour spent getting a paragraph to sit right. It rarely announces itself as joy while it's happening — mostly it feels like absorption, and you recognize it afterward by the missing time. Following it isn't one large decision. It is noticing which afternoons went fast and arranging for slightly more of them.

Look back at last week. Where did the hours vanish? That is the direction.