Happiness

Most people are stumped when asked to define happiness. I speak from experience — over the years of my practice, I have asked hundreds of people from all walks of life for their definition of happiness. I have never received anything close to a reasonable answer. Even something short of a definition, like a rational statement about what happiness is, is surprisingly difficult to come by.

(You may want to check for yourself: Pause your reading for a minute and try to define happiness. If you can’t, can you at least say something meaningful, objective, and rational about it? See?)

Welcome back.

The prevailing ignorance about happiness stands in stark contrast to the intensity of interest in it. This incompatibility is a significant issue that I aim to address in the following sections. I hope and trust that you will find it useful in your pursuit of happiness.

Happiness and Enlightenment

‘Happiness’ is close to, if not the same as, the Buddhist concept of ‘Enlightenment’ — both are highly desired mental states that, in the ideal, when fully attained, mark the cessation of suffering.

Achieving full enlightenment, like finding complete happiness, is clearly a very tall order. Pragmatically, both are unattainable abstractions. Enlightenment and happiness may be best considered abstract ideas worth pursuing indefinitely and approximating, rather than concrete “outcomes” that one either succeeds in achieving or fails to achieve.

Considering the pursuit of happiness as an open-ended, life-long process is appealing because, as such, it has a “built-in” reward — a steady improvement in one’s level of participation in the process (to the extent that “practice makes perfect”), which makes pursuing happiness increasingly more satisfying. This reward is within reach of anyone approaching the pursuit of happiness as a structured practice and willing to commit to it (i.e., it is not reserved only for “special” individuals who may be exceptionally talented, fortunate, or highly skilled practitioners of mindfulness).

The notion that happiness is worth pursuing even if it cannot be attained (in this life) is central to Buddhist thinking. From the Buddhist point of view, “being” anything (e.g., “being enlightened” or “being happy”) — inasmuch as “being” implies a permanent state, is impossible because it violates the Law of Impermanence (which states that nothing is permanent but change). In other words, since adherence to the laws of nature — including the Law of Impermanence, is a prerequisite for functioning effectively in any endeavor, to attain happiness, one must embrace, as a matter of non-negotiable fact, that happiness is unattainable…

The unattainability of complete happiness follows from the structure of enlightenment itself: From the Buddhist perspective, achieving full happiness is synonymous with achieving full enlightenment, which means being fully aware of the laws governing the pursuit of happiness — starting with impermanence. But this awareness is exactly what prevents complete happiness from being complete: were one to arrive at such a state, the awareness that defined the arrival would immediately translate to recognition of the unavoidable impermanence of that state, putting “a dent” in it. In other words, the level of awareness required to achieve full happiness is incompatible with a sustained state of happiness. The capacity that would let one recognize the arrival is the capacity that ensures one hasn’t quite arrived.

The bottom line is that, practically, it is wiser to invest in pursuing happiness effectively than to expect to find full happiness. The effective pursuit of happiness is its own reward; arguably, it is the next best thing to the imaginable ideal of full happiness itself.

Another relevant Buddhist insight suggests that all human suffering stems from two scenarios: In the first scenario, a person wants something but cannot get it. In the second scenario, a person desires something and obtains it; the suffering that results from this is a consequence of the impermanence of all things. While clearly in line with Buddhism’s First Noble Truth (i.e., the guarantee that there will be suffering), it may seem to conflict with the Third Noble Truth, which states that there is a way out of suffering — but it does not.

There are actually two ways out of the trap of suffering: One is to stop ‘wanting’ — the cessation of all desires: If one stops wanting, then neither of the two suffering scenarios applies. Unfortunately, developing a mind completely free of all wants and desires may be unattainable (at least to us, regular folk. Some high-level Buddhist practitioners devote their entire lives to abolishing all desires. Even they may never attain this goal because, fundamentally, they are motivated by a desire — to abolish all desires…).

Thankfully, there’s a plan B! The second way out of suffering emphasizes the reward of an effective pursuit itself — the reward “built in” to a well-executed process or a journey well-traveled. To reap this reward, one must realize that the pursuit itself can have as much (or more) value than the value attributed to the desired outcome. In other words, one must embrace the fact that pursuing something effectively can be rewarding enough to offset the suffering associated with the two possible outcomes — getting, or not getting, that which was pursued.

Consider the following fable (corny as it is) as an illustration of the point: Imagine that you find a map that can lead you to a buried treasure worth a million dollars, which happens to be located precisely 1,000 miles away from you. You are not sure the map is for real, but, after giving it some thought, you decide to go for it — to try and find the treasure (because, doubtlessly, you are a benevolent person, and there is much good you can do with a million dollars). A few days before your departure, you discover a method of traveling that pays you $1,000 for every mile you cover (an Amazon-sponsored podcast, perhaps). You sign up for it and set out on the journey. When you arrive at the destination point, you have traveled 1,000 miles, and by fulfilling your commitment (i.e., traveling right), you have earned $1,000,000. At that point, if it turns out that there is no buried treasure there, no problem — getting there the right way generated a reward as substantial as the reward you expected to find there in the first place (of course, if you do find the treasure there is no problem — you will have twice the amount you sought to get).

The journey becomes its own reward when it improves the traveler in a meaningful way. Reaping the reward inherent to a journey can negate the disappointment and suffering that await at its anticipated conclusion.

Reaping the reward of a well-executed pursuit is much more within reach than developing a mind free of all desires. It, therefore, makes sense to adjust our perspective on happiness to accept that it is not about being happy, but rather about pursuing happiness effectively. That is, accepting the following principle (to paraphrase David Mitchell in his most excellent 2020 novel Utopia Avenue: “Paradise is the road to paradise”): Happiness is the effective pursuit of happiness.

The key point is that happiness is to be pursued, not attained. Over the years of practicing psychiatry, I’ve encountered a fair number of patients who were surprised, some even shocked, to learn that complete happiness is unattainable and that no one is fully happy. For many of them, this simple message was liberating — freeing them from the burden of the notion that they were failing at a central life pursuit, missing out on where others were successful. For some, it was all the help they needed.

Happiness, Good Mood, and Pleasure

To pursue something effectively, the pursuer needs to know as much as possible about what they are pursuing. Certainly, they need to be able to distinguish it from things that are similar in appearance, yet are not the same. For example, to hunt a Grizzly bear, the hunter must be able to differentiate between a Grizzly and a Black bear, not to mention distinguishing a Grizzly bear from a raccoon. Unquestionably, in pursuing happiness, it is important to distinguish happiness from states of mind that are superficially similar but in no way the same. Specifically, it is critical to distinguish happiness from the experience of a good mood and the experience of pleasure.

Let’s start with mood:

The first clue to a problem in the prevailing approach to ‘mood’ (in the context of happiness) is in the language we use to discuss it. Typically, the word ‘happy’ is used synonymously with ‘being in a good mood,’ and ‘unhappy’ is used synonymously with ‘being in a bad mood.’ This usage both expresses and propagates the tendency to conflate the two states.

Mood can be defined as the emotional response to the perceived quality of the moment. The higher the perceived quality of the present moment, the better the resulting mood. Mood states are transient, usually short-lasting phenomena. Happiness is radically different. It is a much bigger deal than, for example, elation or euphoria — the most intense of good moods. (Mood and Mood disorders are discussed in detail elsewhere.)

A ‘good mood’ is to ‘happiness’ like ‘weather’ is to ‘climate’. The climate is a territory’s defining trait. The weather, which is superimposed on the climate, changes from moment to moment; it can only be said to define the transient moment it lasts. Places with harsh climates can have brief periods of good weather, and vice versa — a pleasant climate allows for short periods of bad weather. Similarly, one can be doing well in the pursuit of happiness and experience periods of bad mood, and vice versa — one can experience periods of good mood while their pursuit of happiness is in total shambles.

A Buddhist story recounts the tale of a monk who would visit a certain village for many years. On one of his visits, he was approached by a villager who accused him of being offensive. The startled monk asked the man how he had offended him. The villager responded that every time the monk came through the village, he inquired about how he was doing, and every time, the monk responded by saying that he was ‘fine.’ “Eventually,” said the villager, “It dawned on me that you must consider yourself better than the rest of us, ordinary folks — How come you are never in a bad mood? Don’t you have bad days, like everyone else? How can your mood always be fine?!” The monk was somewhat relieved by this explanation. After apologizing for the misunderstanding, he added: “Of course, I have good days, during which my mood is good, and bad days, during which I’m in a bad mood, just like everybody else. It’s just that, as a result of my practice, on good days, I’m fine, and on bad days, I’m also fine”.

Fluctuating weather patterns on a backdrop of a good climate.

Mood is, of course, an important mental phenomenon, but it is not all-important. Over my years in practice, I have seen many patients whose attention was essentially hijacked by their mood state; at times, it was to the point that they could barely pay attention to anything else. Given that attention is necessary for functioning adequately, this is obviously a problem. A balanced, restrained attribution of importance to one’s mood supports the ability to contain the amount of attention it captures. Typically, it frees up attention, making it available where it is needed more (i.e., to the much more important pursuit of happiness and to optimize its efficacy).

The practice of meditation — a core component of the practice of mindfulness, promotes a corrective feedback cycle around the experience of mood: Meditation practitioners aspire to cultivate the ability to place their attention where they want it to be (e.g., on the breath in breathing meditation {ānāpānasati}, or on their steps, in walking meditation {kinhin}). The ability to direct one’s own attention and choose what to focus it on reduces the threat of it being seized by transient physical or mental sensations, including changes in one’s mood. Limiting the attention given to one’s mood fluctuations automatically reduces their intensity. As the mood fluctuations become less intense, they automatically draw less attention, thereby closing the feedback loop. Committed mindfulness practitioners develop an ability to observe their mood without being subjugated to it or defined by it. That, I believe, is the state of mind of the monk in the story above. (The practice of meditation is discussed in detail elsewhere.)

Next, let’s examine the ‘pleasure’ phenomenon:

It isn’t surprising that ‘happiness’ is confused with ‘pleasure,’ given that both (as well as ‘good mood’) are positive, attractive experiences. What is striking is how common and resistant this confusion is to change, particularly given its costly consequences.

[Sidebar: I recently asked one of the AI engines for quotes about the fleeting nature of pleasure. It offered the saying: “Happiness is fleeting.” I then asked about the origin of this saying; here’s what it responded: “The idea that happiness is fleeting is a common philosophical and human observation, reflecting the impermanence of pleasure and the ever-changing nature of life.” (!) I think the AI response captures the extreme prevalence of the conflation of these two very different concepts.]

Consider the following (fictional but commonplace) vignette: A talented, hard-working person steadily advances in their professional career. Over time, she becomes quite wealthy, able to afford a nice home, a luxury car, beautiful clothes, fine restaurants, and expensive vacations, among other luxuries. Understandably, she considers the various pleasures she can afford to be a reward for her hard work and the good life choices she makes in general. However, after a few years, things began to change for the worse. The problem is that the pleasures she experiences are transient; they can’t be sustained, stored, or accumulated. Worse, none of these pleasurable experiences contributes to her sense of happiness. She feels increasingly frustrated by what she begins to experience as chasing a moving target. Eventually, she begins to wonder if she is somehow at fault for her lack of happiness. Alternatively, she feels cheated (by life). Increasingly, she deals with a combination of both. She gradually becomes more self-doubting, resentful, and cynical, which only contributes to her sense of failure in the pursuit of happiness. Eventually, she makes an appointment with a mental health professional, seeking help in dealing with what she suspects is “depression.”

This story aims to illustrate how failure to distinguish between ‘pleasure’ and ‘happiness’ can lead to confusion, frustration, resentment, and, ultimately, derail a person’s pursuit of happiness. I have seen this exact presentation countless times in my practice; oddly, it is common for these patients to present complaining of ‘depression’ but dismiss it as a ‘first-world problem.’

Obviously, the experiences of ‘pleasure’ and ‘happiness’ are very different. Pleasure is a neurological phenomenon. While the underlying mechanisms are complex (Berridge & Robinson, 1998), pleasures typically involve the release of preexisting tension. Orgasm is a good example. The human sexual response is divided into four phases (excitement, plateau, orgasm, and resolution). The tension required for experiencing pleasure builds over the first two phases and releases quickly in the third phase, the orgasm, which is the sexual encounter’s peak pleasure and the briefest of the phases. The resolution phase that follows the orgasm includes a refractory period — a period of time required to rebuild the tension, which makes it possible to experience another orgasm. The same sequence is inherent to all pleasures. For example, hunger is a tension that is relieved by food consumption, which is experienced as a pleasurable sensation. Sans the preexisting tension of hunger (i.e., when one is full or satiated), eating is not particularly pleasurable at all. In general, the greater the tension, the more intense the pleasure derived from its release. In addition, to maximize the sensation of pleasure, the preexisting tension must be released quickly. A slow, gradual release of tension reduces, potentially even negates, the experience of pleasure. A hungry person receiving a single spoonful of food every hour would experience significantly less pleasure (if at all) in comparison to receiving a whole meal at once, even if, at the end of the day, they consumed the same amount of food.

Regardless of all specific details, pleasures cannot be sustained or “stored” for a subsequent “replay.” Shortly after the tension is released, the associated pleasure becomes a memory; it cannot be “reenacted,” it can only fade. Hence, pleasure is an inherently fleeting experience. The fact that pleasures are readily attainable and, by definition, short-lived, distinguishes the phenomenon of pleasure from the ideal of happiness, which (like enlightenment) may be an unattainable but imaginable steady state.

Neither raising the intensity nor the frequency of pleasures can transform the experience into happiness: A pile of raccoons will never become a Grizzly bear, regardless of how big the raccoons are or how many of them are in a pile. The remarkably common phenomenon of chasing pleasures with the expectation of finding happiness is a manifestation of ignorance of this fact, which typically has costly consequences. Investing resources in pursuing pleasures with the assumption that it will support one’s pursuit of happiness invariably leads to frustration. Worse, because it never works, it often culminates in the misperception that one’s pursuit of happiness is doomed to fail, a profoundly demoralizing conclusion with a potentially self-fulfilling danger.

It should be made clear that there is nothing inherently wrong with pursuing pleasures. The attractive appeal of pleasures is hard-wired into our brains. Seeking pleasure (and avoiding pain) is a core drive in the pursuit of survival, so pursuing it couldn’t be a transgression. However, pursuing pleasures inevitably becomes a problem when it is conflated with the pursuit of happiness, especially if the resources needed for the pursuit of happiness are instead invested in the pursuit of pleasures. (Mindful resource utilization in the pursuit of happiness is discussed in detail elsewhere.) The pursuits of happiness and pleasure are different but not mutually exclusive. Ultimately, pleasures are most satisfying against the backdrop of an effective pursuit of happiness.

Happiness Itself

Having established what happiness is not, let’s now reflect on what is generally known about what happiness itself is. Namely, the triad of Inner Peace, Passion, and Compassion, which are foundational states tightly linked with happiness. (Note that Passion is synonymous with ‘caring’ and should not be confused with the radically different phenomenon of ‘desire.’) A problem with, or a deficiency of, any of these qualities is incompatible with pursuing happiness effectively. Inner Peace, Passion, and Compassion can be considered as defining features of happiness and as prerequisites for its effective pursuit.

The understanding that inner peace, passion, and compassion are preconditions for happiness explains why problems in the pursuit of happiness are cardinal to psychiatry: Anxiety disorders are, essentially, disorders of inner peace; major depression and similar depressive disorders are primarily disorders of passion; and the hallmark of the main personality disorders (i.e., borderline, narcissistic, and antisocial personality disorders) is lack of compassion. This framework, linking the Buddhist inner triad to major psychiatric diagnostic categories, emerged from my clinical observations over 35 years of practice.

Inner Peace

Inner Peace is relevant to the pursuit of happiness primarily because it shapes one’s relationship with one’s future. A person’s attitude about their future has a profound impact on their pursuit of happiness; a dread of the future is guaranteed to interfere with it. Pessimism — the conviction that the future is destined to be worse than the present, is incompatible with the effective pursuit of happiness. However, from a mindfulness perspective, the opposite attitude, i.e., optimism — the conviction that the future will be better than the present, is also incompatible with an effective pursuit of happiness because it is not rational. Optimism is invariably irrational because the future is simply unknowable (any conviction about the specific quality of the future is illusory and, thus, incompatible with a mindful pursuit of happiness). (The illusion of optimism is reviewed in the discussion of Hope.) This raises an obvious question: if neither optimism nor pessimism befits the pursuit of happiness, what attitude about the future does? The answer is inner peace, also known as equanimity.

To a mind at peace, the future is not necessarily attractive or inviting (and, of course, a mind at peace does not necessarily perceive the future as repulsive or threatening). Rather, inner peace confers the notion that, regardless of its (unknowable) specific makings, the future will be manageable or “handleable.” Inner peace is inseparable from self-confidence in one’s ability to maintain dignity, however the future unfolds, be it pleasant and positive or negative and painful.

Passion

Passion is relevant to the pursuit of happiness primarily because it shapes one’s relationship with one’s present. Clearly, a person who finds nothing appealing in their present (or worse, if they find their present repulsive) has a problem pursuing happiness. However, from a mindfulness perspective, the opposite take on the present, i.e., finding it extremely precious and attractive to the point of becoming attached to it, is also incompatible with an effective pursuit of happiness (as discussed elsewhere, attachments are considered the primary source of suffering). The question then is, what is the attitude toward the present that best supports the pursuit of happiness? The answer is that ‘caring’ is the right attitude toward the present. Caring about the present is synonymous with having a passion for it.

Happiness is a state of arousal. You are unlikely to hear, “I’m so happy I want to take a nap.” You are much more likely to hear, “I’m so happy I want to jump up and down”, or “I’m so happy I feel like dancing.” In virtually all cultures, happy occasions are marked by high-energy activities, such as dancing, singing, making loud noises, and engaging in physical activities like lifting and throwing objects. In their high energy consumption, these physical activities symbolize and indicate that, at that moment, the pursuit of happiness is going well.

The energy associated with happiness is primarily mental rather than physical; the terms “passion” and “caring” convey the essence of this mental energy.

Indeed, to pursue happiness effectively, one must care about something. It can be about another person or people, animals, art, the planet, a sports team, or even a political party (yuck). It doesn’t matter what one cares about as long as it is not exclusively self-centered. The point is that to pursue happiness effectively, one must care about something outside of oneself.

Compassion

Compassion is relevant to the pursuit of happiness because it shapes one’s relationship with one’s ‘Self.’ The relationship with one’s Self clearly impacts the pursuit of happiness: Self-hatred, obviously, is incongruent with an effective pursuit of happiness. However, the opposite — loving oneself — is not just unnecessary, it is a hindrance (for several reasons stemming from the negative impact of self-centeredness on the pursuit of happiness, as discussed in detail in the Intent chapter). What, then, is the relationship with the Self that best supports the pursuit of happiness? The answer is self-compassion.

Compassion is not merely a feeling or a sentiment; it is a state of mind, i.e., it is composed of affective and cognitive elements. The Dalai Lama defines compassion as an investment in alleviating the suffering of a sentient being. S. N. Goenka, another revered Buddhist scholar, defines compassion as the capacity to accept someone exactly as they are (as discussed elsewhere, these two definitions are not different; they are two sides of the same coin). (A detailed discussion of Compassion is presented elsewhere.)

The logic behind the claim that self-compassion is the relationship with the Self that best supports the pursuit of happiness is readily evident applying S. N. Goenka’s definition of compassion: To pursue happiness effectively, the Self has to be acceptable as it is; if for no other reason, then simply because there is no other, “backup Self” to call on if the Self as it is, is regarded as unacceptable, as somehow deficient or not good enough. Since the Self, as it is at any given present moment, is all that each of us has to work with, it must be good enough. (This is not to say that the present Self is guaranteed to succeed, nor does it suggest that the present Self is as good as it can become in the future. It only means that, as long as the Self is “in the game”, in the journey, it must be good enough for that — to continue participating in the process.)

Happiness cannot be pursued directly; it can only be approximated — by cultivating inner peace, passion, and compassion. ‘Complete happiness’ (like ‘full Enlightenment’) is linked to the cessation of suffering, which is imaginable and, understandably, most coveted. However, complete happiness is unattainable because unwavering, sustained, maximum levels of inner peace, passion, and compassion are not attainable (at least for ordinary, normal humans before reaching full enlightenment).

The practice of mindfulness aims to continually enhance the practitioner’s inner peace, passion, and compassion, rendering it a systematic approach to optimizing the pursuit of happiness, regardless of whether the practitioner is aware of the cause-and-effect relationship involved.

Ultimately, pursuing happiness effectively is profoundly satisfying. It may well be the next best thing to happiness itself. As the great late Thich Nhat Hanh put it: “There is no way to happiness; happiness is the way” (in line with David Mitchell’s quote, “Paradise is the road to paradise”).

Putting all of the above together yields the definition of happiness: Happiness is the most coveted state of mind, symbolizing an unattainable yet imaginable end to suffering; it can be pursued through the cultivation of inner peace, passion, and compassion.

The Collective Dimension

The pursuit of happiness takes place on two different, yet inseparable, levels — the individual level and the group level. The efficacy of an individual’s pursuit of happiness is inseparable from the efficacy of the collective pursuit of happiness of the group(s) to which the individual belongs.

To illustrate, consider the following mental experiment: imagine you and nine other survivors of a shipwreck are on a desert island. Further, imagine that, for whatever set of reasons, your pursuit of happiness on the island was going remarkably well, but the rest of the group was miserable. Arguably, that would put you in a precarious situation. As the only happy member of the group, your level of happiness, most likely, would be short-lived — at best, you’d be ostracized; more likely, the rest of the members of your group would increasingly treat you with (covert and overt) hostility guaranteed to derail your pursuit of happiness. Being the only member of a group who’s doing well in the pursuit of happiness is neither attractive nor sustainable. Depending on the group’s makeup, it can be outright dangerous.

Logically, it is prudent to attend to and invest in the collective pursuit of happiness (especially — but not exclusively — if one finds oneself doing better than the rest of the group). It is the most effective way to promote and protect one’s own. Many see it as a prerequisite.

The link between the individual and the collective pursuits of happiness is at the foundation of Eugene V. Debs’ moving quote: “While there is a lower class, I am in it, while there is a criminal element, I am of it, and while there is a soul in prison, I am not free.” We are in this thing together.

 

REFERENCES

Berridge, K. C., & Robinson, T. E. (1998). What is the role of dopamine in reward: Hedonic impact, reward learning, or incentive salience? Brain Research Reviews, 28(3), 309–369. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0165-0173(98)00019-8

Bhikkhu Ñāṇamoli & Bhikkhu Bodhi, trans. (1995). The middle length discourses of the Buddha: A translation of the Majjhima Nikāya. Wisdom Publications.

Dalai Lama XIV & Cutler, H. C. (1998). The art of happiness: A handbook for living. Riverhead Books.

Goenka, S. N. (1987). The art of living: Vipassana meditation as taught by S. N. Goenka. HarperOne.

Hanh, T. N. (1991). Peace is every step: The path of mindfulness in everyday life. Bantam Books.

Hanh, T. N. (1998). The heart of the Buddha’s teaching: Transforming suffering into peace, joy, and liberation. Broadway Books.

Kabat-Zinn, J. (2013). Full catastrophe living: Using the wisdom of your body and mind to face stress, pain, and illness (Rev. ed.). Bantam Books.

Masters, W. H., & Johnson, V. E. (1966). Human sexual response. Little, Brown.

Mitchell, D. (2020). Utopia Avenue. Random House.

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