The Conundrum of Happiness

Philosophers, writers, romantics and cynics alike have been analyzing the concept of happiness for centuries. The pursuit of it is chronicled as frequently in classic literature as it is in light-hearted novellas; films outline the many ways in which even the most average person has a chance of melting into bliss. Self-help-blogs and vlogs obsess over the 8, 10, 12 . . steps of bringing contentment to your life. I, too, have fallen victim to this allure.

For a topic with variable definitions, how can one possibly construe what happiness is? The evolution of humans from infancy to adulthood means that the mind is also developing, and so, perceptions change as well. It is more of a feeling than a hard construct, and different for each personality.

In our youth, happiness is easy to define. It’s the barefooted freedom of playing outside on a sunny day; the forbidden pleasure of staying up late on a school night. It’s the spontaneous ice cream date to try the new flavor with mom. As we morph into teenagers it might be getting to sleep in on Saturdays or attend a long-anticipated party. It’s the whispered secrets shared with a best friend at camp; that comforting belief that you will always remain friends leads to the divulge of desires and fears.

Then, somewhere along that path to adulthood, our black and white views of the world turn grainy. With maturity comes an awareness of how the world actually works. Those preconceived notions of happiness become upended. It is neither absolute nor promised.

Attending college directly after graduating from high school, the illusion of universal and finite well-being wasn’t shattered for me until late in the game, perhaps later than for most. Tests and classes, socializing, practicing my violin or vocal literature, the countless orchestra or opera rehearsals, working three part time jobs and the presence of various boyfriends had consumed all of my time and energy. It was easy to ignore the harder truths. I think this can be a common trap to fall into as a student, or even someone in an insular work-environment/community.

I was entirely encapsulated in my environment. I didn’t have a TV and I didn’t read the news back then (this was before social media had really taken off). My friends occupied this parallel world, this college bubble, alongside me. Our focus remained on our literal surroundings and day-to-day of our fast-paced student lives. If we had free time to relax, it was typically spent creating music and art, or losing ourselves in the beauty of nature. We were just a thirty minute drive from the beach. Those years were blissfully ignorant.

When I graduated college, I found myself quickly introduced to reality. I no longer remained cocooned. I woke up to the poverty, wars and genocides peppering other countries; in my own country I became hyper aware of xenophobia, overt and discreet racism, inequality and a social hierarchy formed by discriminatory privileges that have long been a part of American history.

I knew these things had always been there, but I’d been dulled to their existence, consumed by my own life. They depressed me so much that I couldn’t help but push them away for fear that the sadness might overcome me. It took me a long time to find a way to consume media in a healthy way.

In college, I’d been aware of a condescension in the way some people would tell me, “wow, you’re just so happy, all the time.” As if it were a negative thing. At the age of 23, about a year post schooling, I realized what they actually meant was, “You have been lucky in this world so far. You couldn’t possibly understand true struggle.” They were right. I stopped taking it personally.

The hard truths became more prominent as I dove into my career as a flight attendant. Being immersed in other cultures and customs, I realized that I’d been missing out on the greatest education of all: learning through others’ experiences.

Between work and backpacking throughout the world, my interactions with strangers expanded my mindset. I admired stories from the hippies, hitch-hiking in foreign lands and protesting various wars. Yogis enchanted me with stories from India, shedding new light on the spirituality behind the practice. Backpackers encouraged me to leave behind the structure I’d known to seek self-actualization through travel. I began to question traditional constructs of living. All of these people regaled me with tales of living out of their cars, vans or tents in pursuit of a simpler, more fulfilled life. This was my balancing point in counteraction of more somber tales.

On the darker side, I heard of divorce and loss, surviving Afghanistan or Iraq only to live with PTSD, alcoholism and addiction. I sympathized with the anger of being shamed for one’s weight and the experiences of battling severe mental illness.

There was a huge difference from having a distant awareness of such things to actually hearing of the experience and lingering trauma, first hand. From the people I met in this time period, I realized that many were running, fleeing the past or hurtling towards a better future; sometimes, a combination of both.

I feel a deep empathy and compassion for humanity; the people who have shared their stories with me. I have seen the power of putting one foot in front of the other. I’ve observed how those with the least can often be the most satisfied, despite their station in life. There is a resilience that results from overcoming dismal odds. It keeps my own challenges in perspective.

I can not quantify the relevance of my experiences to those of others. My journey has had its own set of unique challenges. Still, I have always had a roof over my head and food in my stomach. My basic human needs have been met. I recognize that not everyone is this fortunate.

Traveling has provided me with insight on the differences between living in one country versus another. It has raised questions on how privilege, or lack thereof, can affect general happiness as a whole. I’ve spoken to people from extreme wealth and those living in absolute poverty. In some cases, being free of material things can mean living the bigger life, but in other cases, there is only struggle. There are shades to both sides.

However, what fascinates me most is that at the end of the day, those two groups of people seem to have the capacity to achieve the same levels of happiness. This makes me believe that in its overarching themes, happiness isn’t necessarily reliant on class status or things. Perhaps, for some of us, it can be a choice, rooted in perspective.

In my personal life, I do my best to remain fixated on gratitude. I choose to live in the light and have decided on the kind of person I want to be as a result of my experiences.

I grew up with two loving parents who chose to shelter me from the scary parts of the world. We spent every Sunday in church and most evenings sharing music and laughter. They nurtured me with the values of gratitude, love, and acceptance while encouraging me to pay that compassion forward. They pushed me to focus on the pursuit of my dreams, goals, education and relationships. It has enhanced my desire to better explore and educate myself on what is beyond the bounds of my scope. It has had the dual effect of teaching me to be a good listener.

Living in the west, I have seen proof on plenty of occasions that the general standards for success don’t automatically equate to feeling good. We often have a list of expectations for adulthood: finding a practical job and climbing it’s ranks, investing in property, buying a practical car. We place importance on achieving independence but also in meeting a stable partner who is equally ambitious and interested in securing a 401k for retirement. For many couples, that list includes a timeline for having and raising children.

In a capitalist society with an increasing detachment from spirituality and human engagement, happiness continuously trails behind career, financial and familial success. Life often becomes about completing a check-list and series of daily routines. I’ve made it my mission to push against this standard.

Over the years I’ve seen how change, even in the form of a negative experience, is a catalyst for growth. It’s a sign that I’m listening to who I might become, shaped by the places I’ve been and people I’ve met. My idea of finding happiness has naturally been shifting through these evolutions. Sometimes happiness comes in the form of a person, other times a hobby or art form and most frequently for me now, an adventure (or rather, the exploration of many places).

I’ve stepped foot on every continent and explored upwards of 30 countries, yet I feel even more strongly that there is no right answer to unlocking a definition for true happiness. In fact, I redefine what this means with every trip abroad; after every exhausting work week. I’ve made it a habit to ask myself how I’m feeling. When the answer is not satisfactory, I search for a way to change it.

One of my common solutions to solving discontentment is TRAVEL. With distance from the familiar, I believe we see things with a clearer perspective. It is not until you see how others live that you can step back and evaluate your own way of life. Travel provides an education that can’t be taught in schools.

I remind myself that I can’t expect to develop my mind without the provocation of alternative angles of insight. I strive to open myself up to meeting new people and learning new things. I hold on to the lessons from each interaction.

The friends and acquaintances I have made worldwide have shaped the way I try to live. The deepest impacts come from a series of snapshots I’ve stored in my memory. I’ve discussed the concepts of religions and philosophies around a campfire with musicians at a gypsy jazz camp in France. Over dinner in Austria, a woman told me her story of being a Chinese immigrant to Europe. Her sister was one of the lost children of China, born illegally and thus forever bound to hide from the government, unable to leave the country or hold a job. During my travels in Ireland, a local Dubliner guided me through the less populated streets of the city. He kindly dropped change into the cups and cases of every musician and homeless person we passed as he told me about the chilling divisions of Northern and Southern Ireland and the country’s historical issues with England.

People may come and go, but their stories remain imbedded in the mind and heart. 

Every day that I wake up, I’m excited for the next adventure forming on the horizon. Life is never stale or redundant. I live unconventionally and without apology. This lifestyle brings me the ultimate satisfaction.

How do I define happiness today? Perhaps the key to a profound question is actually one of simplicity. In my opinion, happiness is found in achieving personal satisfaction.