It’s coming. An afternoon so inviting you roll down your window and let it ride shotgun with you. It’s Friday. A song so sweet it makes you forget there are people in this world who still wear socks with sandals – if only for a second. You are happy.
But this ju-ju doesn’t last forever. Your tank is low so you’ll have to fill it up at almost $4 per gallon. Broken already are your New Year’s resolutions. You’ve lost touch with certain friends and family. Facebook remains a portal into the extravagant lifestyles of your vacationing friends while you’re sitting on your coach waiting for Netflix to load. And on top of that… dirty dishes.
Eternally happy you are not. Often you wish you could be. The dynamic duo – Hollywood and Madison Avenue – would have you believe it’s attainable – if you buy a bunch of stuff, of course.
Some people send out a search party for their wayward happiness. I’ve done it myself at times. And I guess that’s not a terrible thing. Gotta at least try, right?
Wrong.
If you are trying to be happy then you are trying too hard to be happy.
Happiness is the wind. Sometimes it blows and sometimes it doesn’t. It’s fleeting. When it does blow, sometimes it goes this way and sometimes it goes that way. Sometimes it’s a tornado and sometimes it’s a breeze.
You can be in impeccable shape, with many friends, admired by many more, married to the love of your life, with work that inspires you and still not be happy. Anything can change in ten minutes. Your dog will die. You’ll get sick. A series of unfortunate events will most assuredly challenge your perpetual bliss.
It’s during those times you wonder if you’re at the right job, with the right person or in the right city. Until you don’t.
The wind is invisible. All you can see of it is the effect it has on other things. Happiness blows a similar swirl.
Behold the mountain. Tectonic plates shift creating volcanoes which erupt and elevate the earth thousands of feet upward. This happens over thousands – maybe millions – of years. I’m not a geologist, okay. The mountain is patient and strong. It has substance. You have to climb one to conquer it. And maybe it’ll kill you. The mountain is majestic.
The strongest winds are at the top of the mountain. At Everest’s peak you may encounter gusts over 200 m.p.h.
The mountain knows some days will be cold and some days will be warm. Sometimes the wind will blow and sometimes it won’t. It doesn’t really care. It just stands there. Being awesome. The mountain is content. Always. But the mountain doesn’t become content through the spastic pursuit of happiness. Nope. The mountain is formed through a collision. It has to suffer through pain before it breaks free. And then it takes years to learn the contentment we all admire from afar.
Happiness is just a mood. Like hunger, frustration and confusion. It’s the wind. It comes and it goes. There really is no such thing as a happy person. There are only people who feel happy in a given moment. When you try to be happy you go on a shopping spree or go out drinking until three in the morning. Pure, short-term, in the moment, uninhibited joy.
Contentment is more than a mood. It’s a state of being. Being content is the result of intentions and efforts over a long period of time. It’s about actions – because actions are the arbiters of your emotions, not the other way around. When you try to be content you get a degree and join a gym and listen to people who are smarter than you. It’s hard to commit to at first but it gets easier the longer you do. It’s who you are. Forever.
You become a bigger, stronger version of yourself. The taller you get, the more wind you catch. And even when happiness isn’t blowing, your bountiful viewpoint reminds you that you’ve done everything you can to be the person you need to be.
Like the mountain.
Or you can just clap your hands and stomp your feet and see what happens.
