When I think of all the things I’ve given up in search of happiness, I wonder why I did it and how there is anything left.

I am not sure if I am happy or not. In truth, I can say I am never miserable. But, not being miserable, is not the same as being happy. There are degrees; degrees of happiness, as in a little happy, somewhat happy, very happy, temporarily happy. I like that last one best. Temporarily happy is probably what happiness is, a temporary state of well-being we all enjoy and strive to be in as often as we can. So, can permanent happiness exist? Well, if it does, I haven’t experienced it. And I have come to doubt it ever could. You could say I’ve given up, but you would be wrong.

The Dalai Lama once said: “I believe that the very purpose of our life is to seek happiness.” We are entitled to be happy, and we have a right to happiness.

I don’t know about you, but I find happiness difficult to grasp, preferring the word content to the word happy. I know what I mean when I say someone looks contented. I can’t say the same, with any certainty, when I say someone looks happy. But let’s stick with happy, for the purposes of this story.

I’m sure I’m not the only person to struggle with understanding happiness. And until you know what it is, how can you find it? Like the needle in the haystack.

I don’t know how many spouses you’ve had, but I’ve had four wives and a few serious girlfriends. None of them made me happy, even though I was often happy while I was with them. It wasn’t their job to make me happy, although they all said they wanted to, and I believed them. It was years after they had gone, died or moved on, that I began to understand. You have probably noticed I am still using happy instead of my preferred contented, so as not to cause any confusion.

When I was younger…

I’ve noticed as I get older, I don’t use young and old when referring to myself, anymore. It’s become, older or younger.

So, back to my point before I forget.

When I was younger…

Shit, I’ve forgotten.

Now it’s back. Sorry.

When I was younger, I was seldom unwell. I was lucky enough to be vital and healthy, most of the time. Happiness was, therefore, a mind thing. Now I’m older I don’t see it that way. My physical condition affects my happiness as it does my state of mind. If my back aches, as it often does, particularly in the morning, then I am not happy until I loosen it up. It doesn’t matter about my mind, as it doesn’t work in isolation. Everything is connected in some way, and I can’t find any degree of happiness until everything is in sync. Maybe I expect too much. I am never satisfied with a job half done.

God only knows what the four wives and few girlfriends thought. But when they weren’t there anymore, I concluded that it was my responsibility. No-one else could make me happy. It was up to me. Did coming to that conclusion change anything? No; it was only a step, but, as it turned out, in the right direction. I still hadn’t solved the conundrum in my search for happiness. I was getting closer, but then wondered if a lifetime would be long enough. I was in a hurry, even frantic, and it didn’t make me happy. I wrote down all the things that made me happy. It was the longest list I’d ever written. Indeed, it was far too long. I knew, there and then, that if I attempted all the things on the list, I would fail to achieve most of them. If the very thought made me dejected, what would it be like if I tried and failed? Lucky for me I didn’t try any of them, but I pondered on it for days before it hit me, smack on the nose. I did the obvious. I should have done it in the first place, and I’m sure you’ve guessed by now. Yes, I did the reverse and started to write down all the things that made me unhappy.

When I sat down with paper and a pen, I got a shock, a monumental shock.

What did I write?

One word, and only one word.

WORRY.

I looked at it for, I don’t know, must have been twenty minutes, maybe more. That’s right, just looked at it. I knew there must be more. There must be something to worry about. I just sat there, but nothing came. If you’ve ever been constipated, you’ll know what I mean. Then, at last it happened, but there were only three things to add.

Unnecessary possessions. I worried about things. Things like houses, cars, furniture, too much crockery, clothes (far more than I could ever wear), mobile devices that can do everything except make coffee, blenders, dishwashers, juicers, toasters, grillers, sandwich makers, coffee grinders, microwaves, and on and bloody on…

Money. I worried about having enough to live. But my lifestyle was up to me. I didn’t need much to live on. I received a pension and some cash. If I dealt with the first thing on my list, I would have enough to stop worrying.

Health. I worried about getting old and not having enough money to die in comfort. I know it sounds morbid but we all have to face it at some point.

It was easy. OK, it took a while. All I did was get rid of everything I didn’t need and changed my lifestyle a little to fit my income.

So, finally I abandoned my search for happiness, and eliminated the reason for my unhappy state, WORRY.

I find I am happier than I have ever been.

Or should I say, I am contented.