Yesterday, I went to a birthday party. There was a pool, there was a barbecue, there were palm trees and cacti, and children running amok.
While you can’t accurately judge a person’s happiness based on observing them at a party, a lot of them looked happy. There was talk of the next baby, the next home, the next job. Which I think adds to happiness, because it isn’t necessarily a measure of not being where you want to be, but a measure of your expansion.
Humans live to evolve and expand and get excited about what’s next.
Because I like to sit alone on sunny outdoor couches at parties, I spent some time watching other people’s (perceived) happiness and thinking about what would make me happy. Getting a dog, my pilot’s license, getting out amongst humans more - something I’ve always been a bit tentative about, a tendency that tripled during the pandemic and my own health challenges. Shoes may have entered the thought process. My first word was shoes and nothing makes me happier than putting on brand new pink flats, don’t judge me. But I know these things in and of themselves won’t make me happy.
Happiness lies in my response to these things. Happiness lies in my attention to these things and my enjoyment of them.
Happiness isn’t a destination, happiness is a series of joyful moments that we string together over a lifetime, no matter what else is going on in our lives.
Joy is always available.
Even if you have two dollars in the bank, even if dreams don’t come true, even if people are being deeply annoying.
Joy is always an option. But it requires attention. Awareness. An ability to be in a moment, really in it, not thinking about the next thing or whatever’s on your plate at the moment.
When I stopped being alone in the sun because other people began to realize that I am the best at choosing spots to be and came to join me, we started talking about happiness - what it means, what it looks like.
Honestly, happiness feels like a loaded word to me. Possibly because I’m American and “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” has been etched on my brain. Like happiness is something to be chased down, lassoed, and dragged back to your lair on the end of a rope.
Joy feels easier. Because moments of joy are always there for the taking: a daisy busting up through the concrete, a dog licking someone’s face, a skateboarder doing something crazy on a fast moving plank before wiping out at the stop sign.
Joy doesn’t depend on achieved dreams or overcome challenges, it’s there in every moment like a gift the world is trying to give you. You get to choose whether you accept it or not.
For some, happiness is having kids. For some, happiness is not having kids. For some, happiness is achieving the financial security necessary to live a simple life. For some, happiness requires certain substances.
Happiness asks, joy gives.
Happiness, at least the way I hear the word, requires that certain conditions be met. Joy appears unexpectedly, out of nowhere, like a cat jumping on the bed when you thought it was outside chasing humming birds or those humming birds buzzing by the window on their way to visit the roses.
I want to dedicate my life to joy, instead of happiness. Happiness just feels stressful. It requires a certain amount of money and has quite the list of conditions. Joy gets to happen right now because there’s bacon in the kitchen and it’s sunny outside. Technically, those are also conditions, but it’s a much lower bar. Happiness requires years of work for uncertain pay-off.
Joy will give you everything it has right now, just because you exist.