Happy

hap•py - adjective,-pi•er, -pi•est.
1. delighted, pleased, or glad, as over a particular thing: to be happy to see a person.

2. characterized by or indicative of pleasure, contentment, or joy: a happy mood; a happy frame of mind.

Well thats it.

Christmas is done, we have seen out the old and welcomed in the new. We are now well and truly in the new year and back into the mundane nine to five of our day to day lives. The excitement and joy of the previous weeks has left us and we embrace the new decade. Another year is within its infancy and we carefully take baby steps into the unknown days, weeks and months ahead of us.


Earlier in the month I had a few minutes to myself, it was one of those grey drizzly British Sundays where you have nothing in particular to do, it was fairly miserable outside and I had no plans what so ever. I was up fairly early and so took myself off to my local coffee shop and sat down with the Sunday papers. The papers were filled with the usual stories of war and famine, grief and destruction, celebrity gossip and tittle tattle. I flicked through the pages stopping to read the odd story that grappled for my attention before laying it to rest on the table and picking up one of the many accompanying glossy magazines. The entire contents of said publication had been devoted to what makes people happy. It was filled with various public figures and stories of moments in time that have made them happy, glimpses into why we think various “A listers” are happy or not, as the case may be and various anecdotes on what makes us happy.

And so there I sat, reading all about other peoples’ lives and why they were so happy. Most listed the usual things such as their children or grand children, their spouse or significant other and it made me stop and think that, for now at least I have neither of those things. The two predominate factors that seem to produce the most contentment and happiness in somebody’s life is absent in mine. I sipped at my coffee and pondered on this for a time. I must admit that it troubled me. It made me question my own happiness and wondered if I truly was happy or if I knew happiness like those I was reading about.

As I have mentioned before I have always thought of myself and have been considered by others to be a very happy person, but I have also said that I am aware I cover a lot of my sadder times with humour and my mask of happiness. And so now it occurs to me that maybe I have done this for so long that I no longer know if I am really happy or just faking it. Am I not only deluding others but myself too?
I have various things in my life that make me happy, my god daughter and her sister being two of the larger contributors, my friends and my family. I find happiness in music and theatre, in nature and in technology, in the gentle touch that makes yours hair stand on end and in the glimpsed eye contact with a beautiful woman, in the stillness before a storm and in the delicateness of a spring flower, in a child’s laugh and in the briefest of moments that take your breath away.
But most of these are just moments in time, there are no constants. There is no one thing I can place my finger on that is with me every day that brings me contentment other than the thoughts and memories of others. And so I wondered if I knew happiness at all. I looked back down at my magazine and saw, as you so often find in these publications, a self test entitled “Are you happy?” It was your standard affair of nonsense, twenty or so questions with multiple choice answers to choose from, at the end you count up how many A’s, B’s, C’s etc and you read the result under the majority chosen.

“Right” I thought, this will tell me, this will settle it for me. This two pound Sunday supplement will delve into my most inner, deepest darkest thoughts and tell me if I really am truly happy. Within the realms of the glossy pages was a psychologist’s couch ready to work out my inner feelings and troubles. I reached for a pencil that was on the coffee table and began. The questions were much as I’m sure you expect, “How do you feel when you wake up in the morning?” “How many times have you laughed today?” “When was the last time you cried?” I methodically worked my way through the questions, stopping long enough to consider the question but not so long as to over think the question but to give my initial reaction.
I was about half way through when I stopped. I looked at my answered questions and those that were still to come and thought “do I really need a test to tell me if I’m happy or not?” and maybe by the simple fact that I started the test the answer was already there.

I re-examined myself, relooked at what makes me happy and smiled.
I thought about my Christmas just gone spent with my God daughter and her sister, I thought about my New Years Eve spent with my friends. I felt the warm surge of love that I hold for them and am sure they hold for me engulf my inner sole and I laughed. I may not have what some people have that makes them happy but of all the things I do I have I would never want to be without for they bring me more happiness than any man could ever wish for.

I took pencil to paper once more and laid the magazine open at the test on the table, finished my coffee and left.


Written underneath the test were the words



“I know I am, I’m sure I am, I’m H-A-P-P-Y”