I'm reading a book recommended by one of the tutors at Oxford, A Brief History of Happiness by Nicholas White. I think I follow 68% of it - which is better than many philosophy texts I've read.
It's led to me thinking more about what happiness is. Kant said we don't have a clear and definitive concept of it and I think he's right.
I mean, I've been happy. I'm sure I have. I remember days in the field with Jet or sometimes riding when I think I was happy. I remember riding Syringa as a kid and being happy. But a lot of the time what I am experiencing is rather more nuanced than that.
There's contentment at times, when I have done everything and can sit down to read.
There's pleasure in food or wine or company.
There's enjoyment in theatre or socialising.
There's love. Much of my happiness, it seems, comes from feelings of love and affection. Feeling a cat breathing next to me. The dog running toward me. Affection for my father or friends. Silly love for my car, that it's reliable and 'strong' (except on ice).
Gratitude is positive. In lockdown, the gratitude for Guy who redid my kitchen and bathroom and Kevin who redecorated burst into my awareness every now and then. I feel grateful to friends and family for their kindness.
There are moments of excitement - about ideas, usually.
Sometimes there's the sense of achievement - at painting but also after cooking something or cleaning something.
There are the feelings of wonder and awe at beauty and nature and wild creatures.
There's that sweet sense of connection when I feel bonded, for a moment, with a stranger. Or a horse.
And engagement. I can be lost in reading or writing, in a drama or in a painting. That loss of ego when, as I put it the other day, I am all witness of what is happening, with the other busy-body parts of me quiescent.
In meditation or dozing there can be that perfect stillness of never wanting to move again. Here and now is just fine.
Amazing really when you think about it how many different things contribute.
And then you wonder: how much of this is under my control? I can choose to do things more likely to generate such feelings, but I also have to be open to them - the internal constraint - and have the time - an external constraint.
Next, you wonder, and how much can I contribute to anyone else's happiness? That is harder because do they feel the same given the same stimuli? Will it make them happier if I connect? Do they get a buzz from gratitude or feel that they are then in debt? What gives them pleasure?
And you might ask: how do you add these things up? Can you put a value on sniffing Wuji's cotton-wool fur versus watching a skylark versus completing a nice line in a script versus tasting Sauvignon Blanc versus lying in bed versus looking at my newly waxed car versus laughing with my friend Daniel versus.... A life with only sniffing Wuji would be, one thinks, worse than a life never sniffing Wuji, yet sniffing Wuji is wonderful.
There is no algorithm for this.
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