Happiness (written in February 2014)

When I was 17-21 and madly in love, I was happy almost all the time - actually meandering between extreme happiness and extreme misery (he didn't feel the exact same way about me). Then I lost him and for the longest time I felt like I'll never be happy again because I'd defined happiness as that peak high of young love, that feeling that I'm omniscient, that I've discovered the meaning of life, and everything around me - bus stop, other people, run down dorms - was beautiful, exquisite, brimming with meaning. But of course happiness is a lot of other things I was discounting because they didn't come remotely close to those decibels of shrill joy - spending time with my friends, finding good books to read, getting better at my job, Darjeeling tea, traveling by train, inventing stories before sleep, playing with my dog, etc. etc. etc.

My point is childhood and adolescence have a very special happiness to them that is underpinned by novelty, and therefore excitement - the novelty of love, of places, knowledge, activities, etc. This becomes increasingly rarer in adulthood, plus you slowly amass disillusionments which chip away at your stores of hope - and hope is a key ingredient in joy. But I think there are other kinds of happiness, too, they may be quieter and inconsequential but I do think they count. It's taken me a long time to stop staring into the past so much but it's doable.