A few days ago, I spent time with a life-long friend. We laughed, reminisced, and then, we drifted into deeper waters. Somewhere along the way, he turned to me with a question that stopped me in my tracks: “Are you really happy?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” I said with certainty. I live in a beautiful home. I have my precious cat, who fills my days with unconditional love and companionship. I’m surrounded by all the creature comforts I could need. And I’m lucky enough to have a job. More than a job really, a passion and calling that I adore: teaching Reiki and sharing spiritual practices that bring light and healing to others. What more could I want?
But after our conversation ended, the question followed me home: Was that answer honest? It’s a moment many of us have faced. We list our blessings, tick off the boxes of success, and yet, a quiet voice whispers, “Is this it?” This story resonates because it’s universal. We’ve all been there, defending our happiness to others, or to ourselves, while wondering if we’re missing something deeper.
Sitting With the Question
At first, I equated my “yes” with gratitude. I am grateful, profoundly so, for the life I live. Yet the more I reflected, the more I realised gratitude and happiness, though intertwined, aren’t always the same thing.
Gratitude feels steady, like an anchor. It reminds me of what’s good and keeps me grounded through life’s ups and downs. Happiness, though, can feel more indefinable. It shows up in flashes: a moment of laughter with a student, the warmth of my cat curled against me, the beauty of the late-afternoon sun painting the walls of my home.
Maybe happiness isn’t meant to be a constant state. Maybe it’s more like a series of moments strung together, a rhythm we notice when we allow ourselves to pause and feel it.
The Illusion of “Having It All”
Here’s where it gets real: Society bombards us with the idea that happiness equals accumulation: stuff, status, security. A beautiful home? Check. Adorable pet? Double check. Dream job? Jackpot. But as many discover, these “creature comforts” can become a comfortable cage. They satisfy on the surface but might hide unmet needs like emotional intimacy, personal growth, or even adventure.
Take Cleo, my cat, for instance; pets bring immense joy and companionship, reducing stress and boosting oxytocin (the “love hormone”). Teaching Reiki? It’s not just a job; it’s a calling that connects me to others’ healing journeys, fostering a sense of purpose. Yet, if happiness were a recipe, these ingredients alone might make a tasty appetizer, not the full meal. What if true happiness requires vulnerability, like admitting to that friend (or yourself) that something feels off? Or exploring new horizons beyond the familiar?
I recall stories from people who’ve “had it all” only to realise happiness flourishes in simplicity and authenticity. Think of the minimalist movement or those who downsize for more freedom. It’s not about rejecting comforts but questioning if they’re the *source* of joy or just enhancers.
Happiness as Presence
The truth is, I am happy. But not because I have checked all the boxes or built a picture-perfect life. I am happy in the moments when I am present, when I truly see the blessings in front of me, instead of brushing past them in search of the next thing.
And I wonder if that’s what my friend’s question was really inviting me to do: not to list the reasons I should be happy, but to actually taste my happiness, to be alive to it in the here and now.
So now I ask you: Are you really happy?
Not in the sense of having everything figured out, or everything you’ve ever dreamed of. But in this moment, right here, can you notice a fragment of happiness? A small pocket of peace, gratitude, or joy?
Because perhaps happiness isn’t something we achieve once and for all, it’s something we notice, moment by moment, when we choose to be present.
For each of us, happiness will look and feel a little different. There is no single formula. What matters is not how it compares to anyone else’s definition, but how deeply it resonates with your own heart.
A Gentle Realisation
As I continue my journey of teaching Reiki and exploring the subtle energies that connect us, I see happiness less as a fixed point and more as a living, breathing companion. Some days it is loud and bright. Other days it is quiet, like a whisper reminding me to pause, breathe, and simply be.
Maybe that’s the truest form of happiness: to live awake to the present moment, to notice the blessings within and around us, and to allow ourselves the grace to define happiness in a way that feels most authentic to our soul.
What does happiness mean to you, right now?
Is contentment the same as happiness? Is contentment instead, being comfortable, where you are? Then, is comfortable safe? And is safe going to propel you to happiness? I don’t know. Perhaps we still have a way to go… lovely blog.