“Happiness is the absence of striving for happiness.” ~Chuang Tzu
In the quietude of my empty nest, where the echoes of my children’s childhood had long faded, I found myself, quite unexpectedly, drawn back into the enchanting world of little ones. After the tumultuous journey of raising kids through every imaginable stage, from the cooing infancy to the stormy teenage years, I’d embarked on a self – indulgent odyssey. My days were filled with the thrill of skiing down powdery slopes, the exhilaration of mountain biking through dense forests, the wonder of far – off travels, the tranquility of gardening, and the escape between the pages of a good book. In these pursuits, I rediscovered a precious gift I’d lost touch with: time, a luxury solely for my own pleasures.
Then, like a sudden burst of sunlight through the clouds, the magic of childhood reappeared in my life. Enter Parker, the vibrant new neighbor just a stone’s throw away. She was a whirlwind of energy, a delightful chaos that was both exhausting and captivating, a fount of endless inspiration. Whenever I drove by, her voice would pierce the air, calling my name with an eagerness that was impossible to ignore. In the car, she’d wave frantically, as if trying to break free from the constraints of her car seat. And when she stepped into my yard, she did so with an air of ownership, as if she’d claimed the space as her own little kingdom.
Parker was a never – ending stream of curiosity. Her mouth was constantly brimming with “What’s that?” and “Why are you doing this?” questions. She didn’t just want to show me things; she demanded my undivided attention, eager to share every minute detail of whatever treasure she held in her tiny hands. She’d explain where she found it, what it did, and why it was the most important thing in the world.
At first, I must confess, this little intruder got on my nerves. But it was as if she’d cast some kind of spell. Before I knew it, I was completely under her charm. Parker lived in the moment with unbridled enthusiasm. Every laugh, every wide – eyed wonder, was a testament to her ability to embrace life as it came. And in her presence, I saw the stark contrast between her carefree existence and my own.
Despite my best efforts to live in the present, to practice mindfulness, it often felt like an unattainable dream. My days were a never – ending cycle of “to – do” lists. There was always something that needed to be accomplished, something I had to do to keep the gears of my life turning, to prevent the chaos I feared from taking over. I spent my time planning, plotting, and, more often than not, worrying about what lay ahead. When a task was finally completed, I’d heave a sigh of relief, thinking I could finally relax. But as soon as I moved on to the next thing, the cycle would start anew.
I came to realize that this daily routine was a trap, a snare that kept me from experiencing true happiness and fully living in the moment. I named it the “If, Then Trap,” a devious thief of joy. The “If, Then Trap” is a familiar refrain in our lives. “If I finish this project, then I can relax,” “If I earn more money, then I’ll be happy,” “If my child does better in school, then I’ll be at peace.” These are the stories we tell ourselves, the narratives we construct about what we think will bring us happiness.
But the truth is, these are nothing more than stories, fabrications of our minds. When I engage in activities like yoga, meditation, or a solitary hike in the mountains, and I manage to quiet the noise in my head and align with the present, something magical happens. In those moments, all problems seem to vanish. Everything feels right, even though nothing in my external world has changed.
Why, then, do we experience such profound contentment in these moments of stillness, when the very things that usually cause us stress remain? I believe it’s the constant mental chatter, the stories we spin, and our interpretations of the world that fuel our emotions. It’s a vicious cycle. Our interpretations trigger emotional responses, which then feed back into our stories, making them grow and intensify our unhappiness.
Happiness, it seems, doesn’t require us to reach some distant goal or meet a specific condition. It’s available to us right here, right now. Unhappiness, on the other hand, is a creation of our own minds, a product of our expectations and the stories we tell ourselves. Chuang Tzu was right. True happiness blossoms when we stop chasing after it, when we let go of the “If, Then” mindset and embrace the beauty of the present.
As I put the final words on this page, Parker’s voice rang out from my driveway. “What are you doing???” she shouted. “Writing about happiness,” I replied. “Why? Happiness is easy!” she exclaimed, before pedaling away, disappearing from sight. In that fleeting moment, I realized that perhaps the wisdom to unlock the door to happiness lies in the simplicity of a child’s perspective.
