Happiness
When you think about it, happiness is a complicated thing. Everyone wants to be happy and everyone knows exactly how to achieve happiness. You need a stable job that pays well, yet it cannot be too hard or take up too much of your time. You need to have a significant other who stands by your side no matter what. You need a big, beautiful house where you and your spouse will raise your children. You need stay healthy and, of course, skinny. You need to sleep enough, eat right and exercise.
Easy, isn't it? Do you think that the person who has achieved all of this is truly happy?
I believe that they are not. I'm not saying they cannot be happy, of course they can be happy. I'm saying that money and an easy life are not the things that make them happy.
It's all relative.
Someone living in a homeless shelter might be happier than someone living in a palace.
Someone working a minimum-wage job might be happier than someone who makes millions.
A cancer patient might be happier than someone who is perfectly healthy.
And, believe it or not, someone who is overweight might be happier than someone who is as skinny as a stick.
It is, in fact, all relative.
What about yours truly? Like everyone around me and, oh, so many people before all of us, I've been looking for ways to be happy. I've been looking for things that can make me happy. There are these small flickers of light all around me. I think these flickers make me happy. Music, singing, reading, cats, sci-fi... But none of these things will create that magical state where I am finally, completely, 100 percent content and happy. I know they won't.
Maybe real happiness is letting go of anger. Not forgiving, not forgetting, but just letting go. Maybe real happiness is finally being accepted or letting go of the need to be accepted. Maybe it's about finally feeling loved or loving myself. Maybe real happiness is finding a place you can call home or realising that the whole world is my home and I will never feel homesick again.
I don't know what happiness is or how to achieve it. I like to believe that none of us do. But maybe we'll find out eventually.
I believe that they are not. I'm not saying they cannot be happy, of course they can be happy. I'm saying that money and an easy life are not the things that make them happy.
It's all relative.
Someone living in a homeless shelter might be happier than someone living in a palace.
Someone working a minimum-wage job might be happier than someone who makes millions.
A cancer patient might be happier than someone who is perfectly healthy.
And, believe it or not, someone who is overweight might be happier than someone who is as skinny as a stick.
It is, in fact, all relative.
What about yours truly? Like everyone around me and, oh, so many people before all of us, I've been looking for ways to be happy. I've been looking for things that can make me happy. There are these small flickers of light all around me. I think these flickers make me happy. Music, singing, reading, cats, sci-fi... But none of these things will create that magical state where I am finally, completely, 100 percent content and happy. I know they won't.
Maybe real happiness is letting go of anger. Not forgiving, not forgetting, but just letting go. Maybe real happiness is finally being accepted or letting go of the need to be accepted. Maybe it's about finally feeling loved or loving myself. Maybe real happiness is finding a place you can call home or realising that the whole world is my home and I will never feel homesick again.
I don't know what happiness is or how to achieve it. I like to believe that none of us do. But maybe we'll find out eventually.
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