IN THIS posting I'm writing about happiness, which is, paradoxically, a state of being that’s (a) hard to acquire (b) even harder to sustain over a long period.
Happiness, my friends, is never couple of steps away from disappointment and even misery.
Being content and free of worry is one way of defining human happiness. But how many of us can claim to be in that state? Exactly!
To make things even more difficult for us, the modern mind is, quite unreasonably, conditioned to see happiness as an expectation and even as a right.
Such thinking is, of course, a grave error. We live in a fallen world, full of snares and tares, and stalked, always, by evil.
We have to organise to protect ourselves and others from evil and injustice. That is why we have nations, religions, belief in the family as a core institution, and our precious moral conscience as humans.
Having those things can give us security and even love. They are the things that distinguish us as human and raise us above the animals. But they cannot guarantee us happiness. Nothing can.
Our ancestors, I’m sure, did not expect to be happy, and rarely were, despite the myth of ‘Merrie England’.
Oh, some of our forebears might have believed themselves to be happy, but they would most likely have been the stupid people of their day – too thick or drunk to know the difference between happiness and misery.
There are some people around like that today; always in the pub getting hammered. Theirs is a kind of happiness, it could be argued, but rarely of the sort that endures.
Too often, what can seem like booze-induced contentment can simply be the slippery road to family break-ups, workplace dysfunction and depression.
I would say all of this, wouldn’t I? Because I’m an old curmudgeon.
Well, no, because just now I’m happier than I’ve been for a very long time. For one thing, I’ve been, ahem, ‘courting’ for the past six weeks or so with a lovely woman I shall call, for the purposes of this blog, Posh Boots.
That relationship has greatly boosted my happiness, of course, but in any case I’ve been unusually happy for the past three years, living in a beautiful part of the country - Wallasey! -and having made such great new friends here.
So much do I like my current group of friends that I’ve been telling them it feels like I’m living in a genuine community of love for the first time since the 1980s, when I worked as a newspaper journalist in Norwich, and had the time of my life, socially.
And yet – and yet! – along with the sunshine, there’s gotta be a little rain sometimes….
It bothers me greatly, for instance, that at the age of 50, I have no children. How did I allow that to happen?
And it bothers me that my marvellous mum, Teresa Philomena, is ill, and neither my sister, Princess Stephanie of Wigan , nor I, can find out exactly what ails her.
Plus, I have all the usual irritations that are part of modern life – money problems, home repair crises, stressful upheavals and politics in the workplace etc.
Then again, you see, I am not predisposed to consider my personal happiness as a right or even a reasonable expectation.
So I thank God for happiness I’ve been given and I reserve my strength to do battle with the woes when they come.
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Wallasey Dave wrote...
Hi Steve
One thing is for sure. Happiness cannot be bought in a car showroom or an estate agent´s. The search for happiness through material aspiration leads us only to depression and despair...because some bugger has always got more!
As I think you've identified Steve, quality of relationships (romantic or otherwise) are the key to true happiness, however temporary a state that may be.
By the way, I'm 41 and myself and my partner have no kids like you, nor do we want any...we consider it liberating and non-conformist. A child would only smooth your abrasive edge and none of us would want that!
REGAN REPLIES¨: Thanks, Dave, but I´´m sick of being abrasive. I wanna BAY-BE!
Posted by: Wallasey Dave | September 3, 2007 5:10 PM