Happiness
The other day a colleague who hadn't seen me for a while asked me if I was in love. She thought I looked especially happy. It was a surprising question, and given that I'd just shared a sermon on love the Sunday before (1 John 4, what a chapter!), it made me particularly thoughtful.
A few months ago in a moment of cranky cynicism, I'd asked my housemates, "why is our culture so obsessed with love?" And one of them, who has seen a little more of life than I have, replied, "because it feels good!" I think she hit the nail on the head. My colleague's question though made me need to stop and think again about what makes me feel good.
I guess I'd pretty much accepted the idea in our culture (or perhaps the subculture of young women?) that nothing feels as good as romantic love, and if you don't have it, you're missing out. So it was pretty sweet to discover that actually, happiness is made up of a whole mix of things, of which romantic love can play a part, but it isn't necessarily the essential ingredient.
At the moment of my colleague's question, when I broke down my previously unexamined excellent mood, it was influenced first by the simple presence of summer. Secondly by recent time with family, which was giving me more optimism than I'd had in a while about us as a transformed unit. Thirdly by recent reconnecting with friends, after I returned from a mad amount of travel (after two years, I feel like there's something to come back to in my adopted city.) And fourthly by a sense that I have my work life in hand (a rather novel feeling, given the nature of my position.)
I think sometimes too, rather than depression, there is euphoria in being alive and healthy, when you have recently seen some of the alternative. As well as my grandmother passing away, two other important people in my life are ill, and a young woman in my church is in the hospital with cancer. It's grotesque, the long and slow suffering God is allowing her and her family to go through. But being aware of what they are struggling with makes me feel the sun more strongly and see the smiles of other people more clearly.
I watched a movie once, a few years ago, called The Afterlife (at least, I think that's what it was called?) In the movie people when they die can pick one moment from their lives to relive for all eternity. The movie was about the people who were making that decision, and the other people who helped guide them through it. In a way, helping them find the moment of most perfect happiness, which now no longer has to be transient, but can last forever.
Do you have any idea what your moment would be? I'm not sure for myself, because in terms of people, there have been too many important ones, and they've never all been in the same place at the same time. But in terms of the simplest kind of serenity, there is nothing quite like teatime in our garden in the summer.
A few months ago in a moment of cranky cynicism, I'd asked my housemates, "why is our culture so obsessed with love?" And one of them, who has seen a little more of life than I have, replied, "because it feels good!" I think she hit the nail on the head. My colleague's question though made me need to stop and think again about what makes me feel good.
I guess I'd pretty much accepted the idea in our culture (or perhaps the subculture of young women?) that nothing feels as good as romantic love, and if you don't have it, you're missing out. So it was pretty sweet to discover that actually, happiness is made up of a whole mix of things, of which romantic love can play a part, but it isn't necessarily the essential ingredient.
At the moment of my colleague's question, when I broke down my previously unexamined excellent mood, it was influenced first by the simple presence of summer. Secondly by recent time with family, which was giving me more optimism than I'd had in a while about us as a transformed unit. Thirdly by recent reconnecting with friends, after I returned from a mad amount of travel (after two years, I feel like there's something to come back to in my adopted city.) And fourthly by a sense that I have my work life in hand (a rather novel feeling, given the nature of my position.)
I think sometimes too, rather than depression, there is euphoria in being alive and healthy, when you have recently seen some of the alternative. As well as my grandmother passing away, two other important people in my life are ill, and a young woman in my church is in the hospital with cancer. It's grotesque, the long and slow suffering God is allowing her and her family to go through. But being aware of what they are struggling with makes me feel the sun more strongly and see the smiles of other people more clearly.
I watched a movie once, a few years ago, called The Afterlife (at least, I think that's what it was called?) In the movie people when they die can pick one moment from their lives to relive for all eternity. The movie was about the people who were making that decision, and the other people who helped guide them through it. In a way, helping them find the moment of most perfect happiness, which now no longer has to be transient, but can last forever.
Do you have any idea what your moment would be? I'm not sure for myself, because in terms of people, there have been too many important ones, and they've never all been in the same place at the same time. But in terms of the simplest kind of serenity, there is nothing quite like teatime in our garden in the summer.
posted by dm at 12:34 PM
1 Comments:
Awww this was a sweet post because I'm glad to hear you so happy! :)
At any rate, it's amazing, too, when you're happy how almost suspicious people get when you're in that state. Haha. When I'm really happy, I think it always shows some way physically; I don't actually even consciously know "i'm happy" but people often make a comment the moment they see it, are drawn to it and are almost perplexed by it.
If I believed in an Afterlife, I don't know if I can really be content in choosing one particular moment or even one particular year I'd like to live in for all eternity. I think there's just so many bursts of happiness that happens in the smallest instances for the most mundane reasons and I think it'd be hard pressed to compare on happy moment with another.
These days in my journal, even if I had a bad day, my last note is "Happy moment of the day" so I always remind myself that even when life's shitty, there's gotta be something minutely good that happened that day. :)
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