My life is pure bliss!

Float on your back in a lake with your ears underwater and the world drops to a hum.

That's roughly the register — not ecstatic, just entirely uncomplicated for a minute.

Pure is the demanding part. Most good states arrive mixed: the holiday with the argument in it, the wedding with the difficult uncle somewhere near the bar.

Purity is available in shorter units than a whole life, though. A minute of it, uncut, still counts as the real thing. Yours has probably turned up already this week, disguised as something as unremarkable as hot water.