[For clarification, I will use the terms good feelings and happiness synonymously in this post.]
It always seems like you’re leaving, when I need you here just a little longer…
Have you ever wondered what makes a good feeling seem so good?
If you’re a deist, maybe you think it’s the grace of your God embracing you, bringing you closer to Heaven.
If you’re a militant atheist, maybe you think that it’s simply a neural response to external stimuli.
If you’re agnostic, maybe you don’t know what the Hell it is.
And then you wondered why you feel good when you do.
If you’re Marcel Proust, maybe a good feeling is brought on by a piece of cake.
If you’re Charlie Brown, maybe finding a pencil makes you happy.
If you’re Amélie, maybe solving the problems of others while ignoring the own issues that plague you so deeply is what makes you wake up in the morning.
But these are a lot of maybes and ifs. They don’t answer questions. Rather, they just make more.
So I’m going to tell you what I think about good emotions. This probably won’t answer any questions either, but it will be more helpful than just listing maybes and ifs.
For me, good feelings are when you connect, instead of detach, from being alive. When you feel good, you become closer to your Truth.
You know how, sometimes, you’ll just be sitting there, thinking, and the next most you can’t help but smiling like an idiot because you just caught something that was so subtle, you’re sure that you’re one of the very few that did?
It’s because you became a little bit closer to your Truth.
In other words, happiness is like these little revelations that tell you things about yourself you never knew before. In the words of whoever it was said this, “People don’t change; they just become more of who they really are.” That’s what happiness is. Discovering yourself. And how happiness is brought on? Making that little discovery that, hey, I like pistachios; or, hey, the Stage Manager’s monologue in Act III of Our Town made me cry.
This also that why, when we cry during a cinema, or a book, or a play, through our pain and sorrow, there’s a little bit of us that is happy deep down, but not happy in a sadomasochistic way–happy in that we’re crying. Happy in that we’ve discovered something about ourselves that we didn’t know before.
Okay, I really hope I made my thoughts clear in this post, because I really want you all to get what I’m trying to say here, and I have a tendency to jumble my thoughts whenever I’m trying to express something profound. But you know what? Admitting to that secretly makes me happy, because it’s a little Truth that I know about myself now.
Little Truths make up the Big Truth.