Happiness

How do you measure happiness?

Is it something tangible, as palpable and round as a blue orange?

Is it a mood? Can it act like a weathervane?

“I am satisfied . . . nearly.”

Is happiness synonymous with satisfaction? Contentment?

We say money can't buy happiness, but can it buy peace of mind?

Is unhappiness easier to recognise?

“He had told me he was satisfied . . . nearly. This is going further than most of us dare.”

Can it be scaled, can it be broken down into statistics?

Is endorphin a way to measure happiness?

Is architectural or natural beauty necessary to the beholder?

Are others more able to determine our own happiness? To what extent are they contributing to our happiness?

“But he is one of us, and he could say he was satisfied . . . nearly. Just fancy this! Nearly satisfied. One could almost envy him his catastrophe. Nearly satisfied. After this nothing could matter. It did not matter who suspected him, who trusted him, who loved him, who hated him.”

When we are sated, are we happy? When we just had sex, are we happy?

Is a smile indicative of happiness?

People who live in a place with a high insolation rate are said to be happier.

Are socially integrated people or hermits happier?

Is happiness only a mental, psychological construct?

““I came here to set my back against the wall, and I am going to stay here...”

“Till you are quite satisfied,” I struck in.”

Can contemplation, meditation, religion foster happiness?

Is Death a killjoy to our felicity? A panacea to our sorrow?

Must we have a good job, or a job at all, in order to be content? Must we have an aim? Must we know it in order to be happy?

Is happiness overrated?

So if we live in a sunny place,

If we are materially successful,

If we are socially active,

If we love and are loved,

If our stomach is full,

If we live surrounded with beauty,

If we have wrinkles at the corner of our eyes,

If we know where and why we are going,

Then we must – without the shadow of a doubt – be happy people.

“Is he satisfied – quite, now, I wonder? We ought to know.”

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, May 5^th 2011, morning.

(The excerpts are taken from Lord Jim by Joseph Conrad, first published as a serial from October 1899 to November 1900.)