Questioning Happiness

Last class, Mike asked how I was doing, and as a some­what phat­ic response, I told him I was doing well.

He told me, with a chuck­le, that if he did­n’t know me any bet­ter and went only by my writ­ings, he would imag­ine me to be like Joe Btfsplk, with a per­pet­u­al rain cloud above my head.

So I went home and read through the last cou­ple pages of my entries, and found that they paint­ed a some­what lugubri­ous pic­ture.

I’ve always con­tend­ed that hap­pi­ness is too hard to write. When I feel like express­ing myself, it’s often because of a prob­lem of some sort, inter­nal or exter­nal, that I need to fig­ure out. Writing has always been a way for me to get my thoughts in line, and off my chest. Not much of a peace­ful, detached, care-free Taoist, am I?

Perhaps I’ll always lead a Cohen-esque life, where love, sex, phi­los­o­phy, and depres­sion are the dom­i­nant themes.

The fun­ny thing is that my life has improved tremen­dous­ly after ther­a­py. I used to be a very dark per­son. After gain­ing the sta­bil­i­ty of a house and a career, along with sep­a­ra­tion from my moth­er, not much else has changed. I’ve come to real­ize that it’s not so much the things in my life that’s improved in the last few years (aside from the strug­gle with anx­i­ety), as my atti­tude. To be hon­est, I have noth­ing to com­plain about.

That does­n’t change the fact that my entries have been some­what depress­ing.

Perhaps I’m still not tru­ly hap­py yet.

Or per­haps I’m still not look­ing at things the right way.

9 comments

  1. It’s still dif­fer­ent from hav­ing noth­ing to com­plain about. If you’re tru­ly hap­py. You’ll know that you’re tru­ly hap­py even when you’re down and depressed, you know you have a rea­son to part those clouds with the rea­son you have to be hap­py.

    At the end, there is no right way or wrong way. There is only the way in which you walk the best. When you’re tru­ly com­fort­able with that, regard­less of what the rest of the world thinks. Then and only then can hap­pi­ness or at least some mea­sure of peace can be some­where to be found.

  2. A lit­tle depres­sion makes you think, but a lit­tle joy goes a long way too. We need joy, which is not the same as hap­pi­ness. Happiness is an emo­tion; joy­ful­ness is a char­ac­ter­is­tic which tran­scends sad­ness. You can be joy­ful and sad at once, but you can’t be both hap­py and sad with­out alter­nat­ing. Anyway, sounds like you’re mak­ing progress. Concentrate on even the small­est rea­sons to be grate­ful. Pay atten­tion to some­one else. Listen. Love. Forgive.

    Diane L. Harris
    http://www.steppingintothelight.net

  3. Leonard Cohen appar­ent­ly nev­er had a short­age of hot women or fame so there are worse mod­els for being “art­sy” and “deep”.

    As to life, the Lebanese philosopher/poet Kahlil Gibran said it well when he wrote: “Some of you say ‘Joy is greater than sor­row.’ and oth­ers say ‘Nay, sor­row is the greater.’ But I say unto you… Together they come and when one sits alone with you at your board; remem­ber that the oth­er is asleep upon your bed.”

  4. It appears that Kahlil Gibran has Taoist incli­na­tions :)

  5. @Edrei — Your words ring true yet for­eign to me. It’s dif­fi­cult to say whether I’m tru­ly hap­py or not; there isn’t any spe­cif­ic rea­son that I can focus on to pull me out of a depres­sion, just a gen­er­al feel­ing of com­pla­cen­cy. Perhaps it’s an old habit of mine, where I’m always look­ing to improve, or for some­thing bet­ter, and it’s sim­ply going to take some time before I feel set­tled.

    It’s always great to hear your opin­ion. As some­one who suf­fered from the same sort of men­tal prob­lems as I did, it’s a per­spec­tive I find to be both prac­ti­cal and refresh­ing.

    @Diana L. Harris — While I appre­ci­ate your advice, I have to won­der if it’s some­what gener­ic and deriv­a­tive. Like a for­tune in a for­tune cook­ie, it makes sense, but can be applied in many sit­u­a­tions. I think if you under­stood my own sit­u­a­tion a lit­tle more, you would­n’t have writ­ten the things you did.

    @Michael — Nowadays, I tend to judge a per­son not by what they have (female or oth­er­wise) or what they’ve accom­plished, but sim­ply by how hap­py they are. It’s hard to tell if Cohen has found his hap­pi­ness. Perhaps his becom­ing an ordained Rinzai Zen Buddhist monk was part of the search.

    I’ve always admired Kahlil Gibran and his writ­ings. They seem to tran­scend typ­i­cal human ideas, as if he was think­ing (and under­stand­ing) on a com­plete­ly dif­fer­ent plane.

    @Uncle Joe — I tend to see a lot of Taoist influ­ence every­where, but now I think that it’s just the way of the uni­verse. Taoist ideas are sim­ply a descrip­tion of those ways, instead of an influ­ence. That’s one thing I love about Taoism; it’s so uni­ver­sal.

  6. It’s some­thing we have to know in our­selves. Whether we’re the type that is endur­ing mis­ery or the type that’s com­fort­able with mis­ery. It is in know­ing the dif­fer­ence between those two that allows us to know what part of life we walk best by learn­ing to appre­ci­ate.

    Sometimes the world can­not tell us what’s tru­ly bad. We have to define that for our­selves. We can’t all sub­scribe to the same idea of hap­pi­ness. But we can at least look for it.

  7. Happy peo­ple don’t make his­to­ry.”
    Frankly I think any­one who’s hap­py all the time has to be bliss­ful­ly unin­tel­li­gent.
    But that’s me.
    Do I believe in being hap­py?
    As deeply as I bleed.

  8. P.S. Cheers to Canada, and to you, own­er of the mean­ing of the word Phatic.

  9. I also used to think that only the unin­tel­li­gent were hap­py, until I met peo­ple I loved and admired, who are hap­py all the time. Quite dif­fi­cult to achieve, as think­ing tends to breed con­scious­ness, which in turn breeds suf­fer­ing.

    They’ve giv­en me an ide­al to work towards.

Leave a Reply