Pursuit of happiness

WHEN YOU dream of greater happiness than what you experience now, it is proof that you are not happy. There is no doubt that at one time or another in your life you attained the goal that you thought would make you completely happy, but when you got what you wanted, were you happy?

Do you remember when you were a child, how you looked forward to Christmas? But when Christmas came, and you have had your fill of cakes and toys, and you have eaten and played with your toys till they no longer amused you, didn’t you feel that they did not quite come up to your expectations?

You look forward to the joys of vacation and travel, but when you are tired and weary from it all, won’t you accept that that the two happiest days of your vacation were the day you left and the day you got back home?

You look forward to marriage and perfect happiness. Even if it did bring a measure of happiness, you must admit that though your beloved may be a source of delight, sooner or later, one gets disillusioned.

You look forward to retirement and all the things you will have time to do when you retire, but when you do retire, there’s just not enough will and resources to do all of them.

The fact is: you want to be perfectly happy but you are not. There are two reactions to disappointment. Some people whose purpose in life is to derive as much pleasure from it, become cynical. Others, who realize that they have a soul, as well as a body, turn to God. There is a difference between pleasure and joy. Pleasure is of the body, joy is of the mind and heart. Pleasure can be increased to a certain point where it ceases to be a pleasure and starts becoming a pain, like drugs and drinking to excess. But the joy of a conscience at peace, of giving birth to a child, or discovering a truth, never turns to pain.

My thoughts are premised on two points:

1. If you can conceive of greater happiness than what you possess now, then you are not completely happy.

2. Complete happiness comes with perfection and nothing short of the Infinite should satisfy you.

The second point is premised on the first. Even if one is unhappy, happiness is attainable. It means different things to different people—getting everything you want when you want it, being materially comfortable and being pain-free and stress-free. Oddly enough, most people want what they don’t have, and have what they don’t want.

Philosophers define happiness as “the activity of the soul in accordance to virtue, and if there is more than one virtue, in accordance with the best and the most complete.”

The first definition refers to pleasure; the second defines joy and true happiness. True happiness comes from within and does not depend on outward circumstance. I derive joy in hugging and kissing my son, when he was young enough to be hug-able and kiss-able, but I have yet to experience inner joy in kissing my bankbook.

As I look back, I realize that my unhappiest years were during my teen years, years spent away from the sunshine of God’s love. The happiest were those times when I learned to share my life with others—when I gave birth to my only son, when I was invited as a resource person by Radyo Veritas and when I am in a classroom full of students.

Sometime in March 1965, I was invited by Myrna Lee of Radyo Veritas. She hosted a program called “Ako’y Ikaw Rin,” where she invited physically handicapped persons who have enjoyed some measure of success in their chosen profession. The resource persons were held up as living examples of why people with handicaps should not be bitter or unhappy. As I did not know the way to Radyo Veritas, I asked my husband to come along. One of the questions asked by the interviewer was why I seemed to be quite content, despite my being a post-polio case. I answered that my disability was quite minimal, and “having a good man by your side always helps.” At this time, I glanced at my husband—and I saw him swell with pride at my answer.

In school, I try to put some humor into my lectures, every once in a while to make the subject I teach more interesting. Given a choice, I would rather be guilty of too much laughter in the classroom than too many fears. Undoubtedly, in the everyday comportment of our lives, we need joy—for joy and laughter are the “gentle rains that keep hopes green, and humans from becoming sere and dry.” Horace, a Roman poet, said “without laughter and jokes, there is no joy. Live in Love and Laughter.” If only the entire world would and could. If we continuously seek laughter out, then we will not succumb to the problems and pressures that beset us.

Can happiness be pursued successfully? Of course it can. My job as a teacher puts me in contact with youthful students—all of them eager to live life to the fullest. The joys I bring them are not extreme. I chat with them a bit, perhaps share a joke or two. But I am no Bob Hope. My fractured jokes, however, do bring a little cheer. As I interact with them, the joy reflected in their young faces as they respond makes my day lighter. In a Chemistry class last summer, instead of the usual Chemistry project, I challenged the class to submit jokes, anecdotes, poems and songs about Chemistry. Some of the jokes submitted were:

Joke #1—Ano ang paboritong ulam ng Chemistry teacher?

Answer: BORON TALANGKA (Boron is the name of an element)

Joke #2— Ano ang gamot sa mga kalbo?

Answer: KALBOHYDRATES (from carbohydrates)

In our search for happiness, how big a goal do we aim at? It is best to aim at modest goals first. Benjamin Franklin once said, “Human felicity is produced not by great pieces of good fortune that seldom happen, as by little blessings that can occur everyday.” Some of these little blessings will fall to us by chance, as will some unhappiness, but most will depend on the human spirit, or they will not come to pass at all.

I once read of a minister who lived in the dense woods of Wisconsin, where only narrow patches of sunlight penetrate. He had a pet dog, Blackie, and as the warm sunshine moved across the cabin floor, the dog would move with it. Few of us have a life that is all sunshine. But none of us has a life without its patch of sunshine. Why don’t we follow Blackie’s example and keep moving into the sunlight?

Zenaida T. Nucum, Ed. D., 71, is a retired chemistry teacher who taught at the University of the East, Miriam College, University of Asia and the Pacific, and Global City Innovative College. She is presently writing books in chemistry, biochemistry and pharmacology, published by C & E Publishing Inc.