In other words, happiness is not an epic mullet. It is not something you can grow and achieve like the fanciful curls of an omnipresent South American coiffure. It cannot be tended to, taken care of or swept ever-so-gracefully into a sophisticated chignon, if you’re feeling so inclined. Happiness, unlike a mullet, is intangible.
Which is why when anybody ever refers to “the key to happiness,” I cringe at the faulty logic of this English-language cliché. To proclaim such a “key” exists is to objectify the un-objectifiable. (And yes, you can quote me on that word, Merriam-Webster.) It’s nonsense. And even more so, it seems to me that to think of happiness in such a way will inevitably lead you to another unfortunate English-language cliché – the proverbial pit of despair.
I mean, think about it, what’s worse than a wild goose chase? (Besides that phrase, I mean.) Not much.
But don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that happiness doesn’t exist. Au contraire, Grumpy Care Bear. (Shut up; it rhymes and if I used “mon frère,” that would’ve been my fourth ironic cliché in just as many paragraphs – unacceptable. Everyone knows three is the limit.)
Indeed, happiness exists. However, it exists in a much different format than a glorious mullet or even delicious llama meat, which I was lucky enough to find out last week is seriously tasty.
But scrumptious camelid flesh skewers aside, what I’m getting at here is that happiness is a feeling, which means, just like any other feeling (sadness, anger, boredom, excitement, lust), happiness is temporary. Nothing, at least on this planet, can ensure you’ll be happy all the time because the realistic fact is, when feelings, emotions and all that other bullsh*t are involved, there are no guarantees. Even llama meat is no guarantee.
Of course, at the same time, we’re not helpless when it comes to trying to maximize the possibilities to feel happy. For example, for me, I seem to feel the most happy when I’m making people I love smile and vice versa (ah, shucks). So, why not just do that forever and, ergo, be happy forever too? Well, because these same people with whom I’ve shared and still share so much joy, also have the ability to make me the most angry and depressed I’ve ever been.
And don’t think that’s just me. This happens in fiction as well, so clearly it must be fact. Uh, or something. Take, for instance, this passage from Isabel Allende’s The House of the Spirits, in which family patriarch Estaban Trueba attempts to recapture a happiness of yesteryear to no avail:
“The distant mountains disappeared behind the clouds of a shrouded sky; only the snowy peak of the volcano could be seen in all its clarity, outlined against the landscape and lit by a timid winter sun. He looked around him. In his childhood, during the only happy time he could recall, before his father slid utterly into ruin and abandoned himself to alcohol and disgrace, the two of them had gone horseback riding in this part of the country. He remembered that he played during the summers at Tres Marías, but it was all so long ago that memory had almost erased it, and he did not recognize the place.”
See? There is no one person, no one environment, no one delicious meat shish-kebob, as it were, that will make a person feel happy permanently. There is no one anything. There is no key.
Sure, various nouns (that is, people, places and things) can contribute to moments of pure happiness for all of us (Estaban has his childhood horseback riding, for example, and I have my delicious llama meat), but to attribute happiness entirely to some object or some thing that exists outside your psyche seems wrong.
In fact, even writing this pseudo-manifesto on happiness seems wrong because I’m pretty sure, that much like searching for some sort of mythical “key,” overthinking why and how we, as humans, feel certain ways at certain times doesn’t really do anyone any good. In fact, during the time I’ve wasted composing this post just thinking about happiness, I may have missed out on some fleeting moment of it because I was too busy trying to use the functional slice of my brain to theorize about something that will never fit neatly into a theory. And although the width of said slice of brain is about the girth of a lowercase “L,” I’m still convinced even the smartest person couldn’t will a feeling of happiness through even the most logical of analyses. Instead, I think happiness is something we just feel when we happen across it, however and whenever that may be.
And on that heart-barfing note, you’ll have to excuse me. I must now go take a shower to wash the waft of dirty hippie off myself. Indeed, I’m hoping being clean and free of the stench of patchouli will allow me a few fleeting moments of happiness. But even that is no guarantee.
Hey, Marissa – how true, and somewhat succinctly written. It seems to me, as well, that one should getting unhappy and angry in order to be ripe for happiness whenever it avails itself. I’m wondering if I should try and control my tendency to be silly because it seems to be closely related to happy – if only by close proximity. I love happy and live happy and if something or someone gets in the way of my happy, then well…they won’t last long. Incidentally…your Fed-Ex frustrations…made me kinda un-happy, but then…you really suffered…. Wish that I could’ve helped you stave off the angry moments. I love getting your travel updates! I’ve studied the Latin American counties and cultures and cannot wait to do what you are!
I wouldn’t ever stop being silly or stop being anything that’s uniquely you. I think it’s when we try to not be ourselves or really override natural, normal emotions — both good and bad — when we begin to miss moments that would otherwise be happy. In the end, the point is no one ever knows. There very well could be a “key,” I suppose. Maybe it just hasn’t been discovered yet. But more likely, some things in life just go along without a formula. Feelings — happiness — seem to fit that mold.
There is no spoon?
Uh, a spoon of what? Delicious llama?
I think the definition of happiness is also subjective. It depends so much on culture and your personal life experiences. Like what if my goal was to grow up and live in a box in an alley? i would be completely happy if I achieved that. Some people are. Unfortunately, my goals are not that simple, so I am another one of those people who spends hours thinking about the meaning of happiness too.
Totally agree on the subjective tip. I think, though, that the whole idea of trying to “find” happiness is flawed. I think more often these moments find us. We just have to be in the right mindset.
Hold on… lust is temporary?
It depends on the time, place and person, no? All feelings are temporary. Unless we’re talking about Norm Coleman. You agree, right. RIGHT?!?!
I think I love you.
Ha! Now if only more people in real life said that, well, besides sketchy South American cab drivers… :p
Great post. Couldn’t have said it better myself–every heart-barfing word. Overthinking happiness can indeed lead to the pit of despair (or maybe the cliffs of insanity–Princess Bride fans, you know what I’m talking about).
In any case, do wash off that patchouli stench.
Thanks! No pathouli here…blech. But there might be some flowers in my hair…
Good grief! Next thing you know, you’ll be going to San Francisco with your hippie backpack and hanging around Haight-Ashbury. I think it’s about 40 years or so too late to be a hippie there now.
However, the San Francisco Chronicle seems to think the place is still cool: http://www.sfgate.com/neighborhoods/sf/haight/
I dunno. That guy in the photo flashing the peace sign has hair even worse than a mullet. Dirty hippie hair. I can practically smell the B.O.
Happiness is a natural occurance. I think if more people understood this their lives would be happier. Oh the irony! There would be less drug use, less debt and less sexually transmitted deseases, from all those things done in the search for happiness. Your post should be a public service anouncement.
Interesting thoughts. Maybe there would be a drop in all things sh*tty if people didn’t try so hard to capture something they can’t…
As for this post being a PSA, well, it’s about time I said something not stupid! 🙂
who is having more fun on their adventure, me in Vegas or you in S. America? 😀
If only we could combine them!
It’s light moments that make lodestone hours bearable. The words you put down here were only a few minutes on the internet, for me, but made me feel better than most of the other ‘few minutes’ put in elsewhere. You MADE happiness!
Well, I’m glad I could contribute and that comment made me happy too. 🙂
And now I will brave the downpour in Cusco to try desperately to find something pumpkin-y and sweet to eat.
It took me forever to figure out that this is a picture of meat on a stick. Call me stupid, but when you first look at this picture it looks like an army or caravan of meat creatures/blobs marching through a desert. This is because you’re holding the shishkabob thing at the same angle as the slope of the ground (or almost the same angle).