The Pursuit of Happiness..another fable of sorts.

The pursuit of happiness.

Reader, Imagine for a moment that you and I are friends. Its raining outside and we are sitting in a coffee shop, or your living room (wherever you feel more enlightened) We’ve been talking for a while about where we’ve been, where we’re going, and what it would take in this life to be truly happy. I feel at a loss because happiness is such a mystery and one I want so badly to unlock, not just for myself but so that I could give you answers as well. I ask you, “Have you ever heard the story about the girl on the pursuit of happiness? “ Your eyes flash recognition and I see you searching your brain for recollection so I interrupt your process and assure you that No, you haven’t. You think you have because this is something that many people have talked about, over cups of coffee, glasses of wine, or sobbing over half-gallons of ice cream. The quest implied by the title of this story is strewn across magazines and thematically impacts many works of literature, its message is embedded in music of all genres, it’s part of the constitution even. But you haven’t heard this story, because this story I’m just making it up right now as we sit together contemplating the stuff of life, watching the rain drops travel down the glass of our window.

The story begins with a girl, (I’m picturing her with long dark hair and freckles, but for your own purposes, you should picture her looking a little more like you, even if this means she doesn’t look much like a girl at all anymore...she won’t mind. ) Anyway, this girl is traveling, and like most travelers she has a destination, she calls it “happiness”. The path she travels is long and she has no real map to guide her. She makes several stops along the way, veers off the path in several directions, and gains and loses traveling companions for different stretches of the journey. There are pleasant and unpleasant distractions on her quest, but after a time, she always continues back to the original path and forges ahead with renewed resolve on the pursuit of happiness. At long last she becomes weary, disheartened, and confused about the quest. She feels as though she should have arrived by now, so she sighs and humphs, growls and makes all manner of gutteral sounds until she realizes she is being watched. (Yes this is the part where I introduce the wise old man..somebody has to come along and provide some clarity! Blame my affinity for Yoda or say I have “daddy issues” if you’d like)
Thus emerges, an old wrinkly man, with the look of wisdom in his eyes. Of course, the girl looks to him for the answers she’s been searching for, who wouldn’t? She stops him and (because girls don’t have trouble with this) asks for directions. The man considers her question for a moment. Truth be told, she is not the first to come across this old man and ask him how to find happiness, he’s seen her kind before. He assures her that he can help her but in return she must sit down with him and for as long as it takes, she must recount for him every step of the journey she has already taken. He warns her that he is not interested in hearing just the pretty parts, that he will not stand for picking and choosing, she must start at the beginning and tell him every part. Of course, the girl is confused about this request, and torn about leaving the path to sit with this wrinkly being, when possibly, happiness could be waiting for her just around the bend..but when he says, “I have to know where you’ve been before I can tell you where you are going.” her hope is ignited and her decision is made.

So the girl sits down and tells the wise old man about all the days of her life gone by. The story she weaves is just like yours, parts of it shadowed with darkness, other parts drenched in light, moments laden with sorrow and stages bursting with joy. As she speaks her eyes well up with tears at the remembrance. There are thunderous bursts of laughter and junctures of quiet despondence as she recounts her tale. In the telling, she beams with pride and shrinks with shame at different junctures, and all the while the man listens and his eyes mirror each emotion that she feels, beckoning her to continue. At last, the story ebbs and flows and tapers off at the very moment that led her here, to this place, asking the old man for directions. “So you see,” she tells him, “I’m on the pursuit of happiness and I need to know if I’m going the right way and how much longer until I get there?” The man smiles and tells the girl that she has a beautiful story. Having just told it, she can’t help but agree. Nevertheless this is beside the point, and so she presses him again. (This is the part where the wise old man scaffolds the girl to her own understanding *teachers smile knowingly*) He asks her to describe the happiness she is seeking. She thinks for a moment, searching for an illustration, and concludes for him that happiness is like an unexpected hug that finds you when you’re cold and low and makes you warm with nothing needed in return. The man tells her that she’s describing friendship, which has already been part of her story, silly to search for something you’ve already found. She thinks again and says that happiness is when you are doing that thing that you know you were always meant to do. The man smiles and tells her that she is describing a sense of purpose, something else she has shared has been a part of her journey. She offers other examples of “happiness” which prove to be other things entirely: Love, Security, Accomplishment, Adventure, Fulfillment, Contentment.
As anyone would, when searching for the way to describe with words that thing that you just understand innately but cannot explain, the girl becomes exasperated. She feels a bit lost, not sure that the thing she has spent her whole life searching for even exists, but also absolutely convinced that it does.

Back to the rainy day in the coffeeshop/living room, you are leaned forward and listening intently (I have to tell you I’m impressed you’ve stuck with me this long). I take a long sip of my coffee and secretly savor the drama of this moment in time. I ask you, “How is it that the girl is sure happiness exists?” You offer at once, that the girl knows happiness exists because she has tasted it, experienced it during different parts of her journey. I smile. You smile. More sips of coffee. You say, “Am I right?” Long pause. More rain watching. Deep breath. I tell you what I always tell you, (because we are friends and I trust you to still like me after the admission), that I really haven’t got a clue! But, I offer this thought, sometimes I wonder if we miss the really good stuff in life because we are too busy looking for it. What if the pursuit IS the happiness?
“Is that what you think?” you ask me.
I don’t know.
Of course you ask me how the story ends, and because I’ve just been making it up, I don’t know that either, but I tell you that what I think happens, is that the girl recognizes the happiness she has already had in her life, that she finds more happiness in that recognition, more still in realizing how far she has already come, even more happiness in having someone (even if he is wrinkly and old) to share her story with, and even more happiness in the realization that if she keeps moving forward on her journey there is happiness wrapped up in the possibility of what lies ahead.
Although you don’t say it, I can see you are disappointed that my story doesn’t end as strong as it began.
Sigh.
You ask me if I’m on the pursuit of happiness. I think for a moment and concede that I probably am. But, I offer this last thought, that this moment, right now has happiness in it, and I’m going to drink it in, just like this last sip of coffee, I’ll savor it before I ask for any more.