Happiness

I read the following on a Facebook update a few days ago: “Often I feel like I'm living thus: I can't wait until ______ happens/is over because then I can be happy. It's like I'm wishing my life away. Anyone else ever experience this? I'm guessing that contentment is lacking. Or, more pointedly, a life lived to love God and others versus a life lived for my personal fulfillment. Thoughts?”

I don’t relate to this experience, as the sentiment is grossly illogical, but this is not the first time this Facebook friend has posted something I found flaw in, as is evidenced by the fact that I am now barred from commenting on his posts.

There is not much chance of finding happiness when focusing on what you don’t have or don’t want to have. Many seem obsessed with preconceived notions about the way life should unfold or with creating false dependencies ("I can't live without..."), and unless those assumptions are fulfilled they refuse to be happy. To me, these are an almost surefire way to set yourself up for displeasure. Some expect, or rather demand, everything to be perfect all the time. These spoiled brats will never be satisfied. Being able to un-ironically smile through unexpected and unplanned circumstances requires flexibility.

One of my favorite documentaries is Hands on a Hard Body (1997), about a competition in Texas between contestants vying to see who can keep one hand on a truck while standing for the longest. It contains an interesting perspective and a few insights on life, perhaps the best being, “I figured it would eventually get to a point to where everything would quit getting worse and just stay bad, you know, but it just keeps on going downhill.” I love this idea that sometimes, like a baseball team on a down year, just staying bad is the best thing we can hope for.

It seems many expect that at some point the stars will align and happiness will suddenly appear to them like the culmination of some sort of successful spell. If happiness were to materialize, what form would it take? The answer, of course, is to be found at the Lagavulin Scotch whisky distillery on the isle of Islay in Scotland. But would a lifetime supply of 16 Year Lagavulin really bring happiness? I don’t know, but if someone is willing to fund such an experiment, I am willing to give it a try.

I don’t trust anyone who pretends to be happy all the time. These people are inevitably afraid of facing deep meanings or realities, preferring an existence of superficial fantasy. I currently live in a place that, aside from great disc golf courses, one good Thai restaurant, my brother, my girlfriend and nearby friends, is pretty much awful. However, when I complain about Iowa, the knee-jerk response from some is, "If you don't like it, move!" Really? I mean, it does have great disc golf courses, one good Thai restaurant, my brother, my girlfriend and nearby friends after all. Honestly, I can't think of a place that has more than that to offer. Pointing out flaws in a thing does not automatically make one sad and depressed. Recognizing ways in which things can improve is a much different perspective than wallowing in how bad things are. No matter what Disney wants us to believe, we don’t have total control over our own destiny. Sometimes you have to, as my mom would say, “be happy with what you have.”

I don’t quite understand the difference between happiness and contentment, other than the degree of giddiness involved. I think it’s obvious that laughter, being a sort of temporary onset of delirium, does not equate to happiness. Some situations avail no solution other than laughter. It is unwise to take some things too seriously. I often find myself requiring a conscious decision to not be irritated by things that aren’t at all important. (It is frankly ridiculous how easily I am irritated, and usually try, with questionable success, to keep that quelled, reminding myself that it is the height of immaturity for anyone to make another suffer because of trite, irrational intolerances.) Any degree of satisfaction is temporal, and therefore less valuable than the likes of empathy and integrity.

I have lived with those who suffer from depression, and that seems like a bitch of a disease. My degree is in psychology, and diagnosed depression is something psychologists have gladly turned over to psychiatrists. Do some drugs.

There are a few people who deserve to be miserable. I would love to pen a work entitled Andrew’s Inferno. In my book, there is nobody worse than an exploitive person. This selfish and self-absorbed type is either heartless or tends to assume others have magical abilities to endure hardships more than they can. They are recognizable by phrases such as, "You have to ____ because I'm too ____," often followed by, “Can’t you do anything right?”

The happiest times in my life have come not by intention, but rather have been an unexpected result of simply removing myself from unhappy situations. Feelings of futility, helplessness and contempt all breed unhappiness. In my experience, happiness is equal parts confidence and luck. Anyone who doesn’t believe in providence isn’t paying attention. For example, I've had the great fortune of possessing mental and physical health, a loving and supportive family and growing up in a country where white males have more opportunities and advantages than everyone else- things I really had no say in or control over.

Happiness has its risks. Those we love most have the greatest power of causing us pain. Refusing to endure unhappiness requires more faith and courage than most people have. Hence the Thoreau line, “The vast majority of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” Some will never be happy simply because they're too scared to try.

The impetus for this post implies two things that stand in opposition to his happiness: God and others. He would likely object to this assertion, and I admit I didn’t see it upon my first reading, thinking instead he had randomly added some obligatory religious nonsense. But the dichotomy he creates in stating, “a life lived to love God and others versus a life lived for my personal fulfillment,” is glaring, because from my point of view, personal fulfillment comes in part as a result of living for others and my (lack of) belief in (any) god. I don’t have to make a choice; it is all part of the same thing.

I’ve been told by straight-faced Christians that it is impossible for non-Christians to experience happiness. When pressed with evidence to the contrary, they will eventually declare that happiness on earth does not exist for anyone. They preach that a life of suffering will be rewarded after death, while giving no evidence to support that claim. Jesus himself is portrayed as an utterly dreary bore who got people excited by telling them they could quit their jobs. For the most part, Christians are made to feel guilty for having fun. As life has so much wonderment and joy to offer, I feel this is truly a disservice.

Religion tends to prey on the less fortunate, and offers a community where one can agree to shed their individuality, and all associated freedoms and responsibilities, in trade for a sense of belonging and purpose. Religion appeals to those who dislike ambiguity or distrust their own decision-making skills. In a monotheism that thinks everyone should think and feel the exact same way, it is expected that they would egocentrically believe all others inhabit these traits. But then, they’ve probably never tried Lagavulin Scotch.

Humans are undeniably social beings, and our well-being is almost always connected to the success we are having interacting with others, or another. We are therefore compelled to surround ourselves with like-minded people. After all, misery loves company. It is utterly pathetic, however, to insist upon surrounding yourself with others willing to constantly whisper sweet nothings in your ear. I mean, Alex Rodriquez needs to call Pete Rose to remind him how awesome he is? What a loser. Even worse would be an omnipotent being creating creatures in hopes that they would worship and obey him.

I reject on principle the saying, “Ignorance is bliss.” Besides being a phrase that tends to be used by people talking about somebody else, my own dumb decisions is precisely what has usually led to times of despair. The most accurate summary of the original Facebook update seems to be: I’m miserable, but that must be what God wants, because he’s surrounded me with miserable circumstances and people, although I don’t understand why. My money is on him never being happy, in part because he is too stubborn to ever admit a mistake, but I sincerely hope otherwise.