What really is happiness? Yeah, I know it’s the state of being happy. But what makes you happy? I know that it’s different for everyone. Just calling my cocker Spaniel makes her thrilled to death. My Granddaughter is just as happy as can be when she’s fed and clean and not tired. Oh, if it were all it would take make the rest of that happy. We wouldn’t have the huge consumer driven society that we have. All cars would be the same. There wouldn’t be any difference in clothing or hairstyles or food or houses or, or, or…Life would be bland, but we would be happy.
I have a great job, I make good money, I have two wonderful daughters, (they are as different as night and day but I love them both.) I have the most important person in my life, my Granddaughter Reese. I love my family. My dogs think I’m some sort of god. I have some good friends, I have a nice car; I’m in pretty good health for someone my age. I can do pretty much anything I want (within reason), and yet I am rarely what you would call really happy. Why is that? I don’t think I need a woman in my life. They, as a gender, are too unpredictable and unfathomable to us men or maybe just me. I don’t consider myself a lonely guy. I value my alone time. I’m not what you would call a deep thinker; I guess you would say I am a pretty shallow thinker. I don’t ponder life’s mysteries; I just figure they are what they are.
With the world the way that it is, I don’t know ANYONE over the age of 30 that is truly happy. Too many people are out of work or on limited hours or unsure of when the next round of layoffs will hit. There doesn’t seem to be enough money to go around as there was just a year or two ago. Many of my friends are having relationship issues, whether it’s the lack of a relationship, or insecurity in their existing relationship, or are struggling with infidelity or the consequences of infidelity.
So back to the original question, “What makes us happy?” I think for most of us it would be as simple as someone paying attention to us, or having enough to eat, or a nice place to stay, or maybe peace with God (however you perceive him). Although I have all of that; true happiness eludes me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an unhappy person. I’m just not exactly happy. I tend to be optimistic. Maybe I equate happiness with being thrilled with life; I can’t always say I am always thrilled with life. It can be exquisite or it can be pure torture. There are a lot of times that life just is. It’s not great, it’s not bad, it just is. There are times when all I need to be happy is a hug. It doesn’t have to be a hug from a significant other, just from a friend. (Hopefully of the opposite sex.)
So that’s what makes us happy. Attention, food, cleanliness, peace, or maybe just a hug. I’ve been told that happiness comes from within. I’d be willing to debate that at times. I can be miserable and Reese will smile or giggle or coo or just make a funny face and whatever made me miserable is gone.
As I said earlier, I’m not a deep thinker, so maybe I’ll never figure this out. Maybe we’re not supposed to. Who knows?
