In the last couple of weeks, I have spoken with many friends about the concept of happiness as it pertains to life’s pursuits, which has forced me to give thought to my past experiences and the reasons why happiness eluded me for so long in my life. The following is the sum of my thoughts.
A surfer finds joy on a blustery day in Tofino, BC
Life is not about destinations. Or perhaps I should argue that a happy or satisfying life cannot be about destinations, because destinations are temporary at best and completely illusory in truth.
We have been taught that it is important to set goals, to aim for a destination, and to a limited extent, I agree. Where I struggle, however, is in the assumption, the programming that suggests the goal will bring happiness, that at your destination, you can rest.
For most of us, this sets up a couple of problems.
If we do not succeed in achieving our goal or reaching our destination, then not only have we failed, but more insidiously, we see ourselves as failures.
But even in those situations where we achieve our goal, arrive at our destination, we are faced with the daunting and disheartening revelation of “Now what?”
In Costa Rica, when you finish exploring the jungle, there is still the mountain to climb
For despite the momentary glow of success, we cannot rest. We must seek the next goal, identify the next destination. And the cycle repeats, ensuring that for all but the rarest of us, we will fail, we are failures.
Part of the challenge is that for many people, the idea of a goal or destination presupposes that we are not sufficient in the now, that our lives are incomplete and would somehow be better over there.
We don’t make enough money. We are alone. We have not achieved the heights for which we are destined. We—as we are today—are not good enough.
It is good to push boundaries. It is good to strive.
And while those two statements may sound contradictory to the questions I raise above, to what I have decried, I don’t think they are.
Pushing. Striving. These are actions, not endpoints. And that makes all the difference in the world.
A goal or a destination, a predetermined endpoint, is fine, but only in so far as it gets you moving in a direction. After that, it is meaningless.
Life is in the movement. It is in the process. It is in the journey, regardless of where that journey takes you.
Destinations and goals give us opportunities to shift the direction of that journey, but they are not the point of or the reason for the journey.
We are like photons in the universe of our lives. Without movement, a photon has no mass. When we cease to move, we cease to exist.
It is our movement that gives us life, and our interactions during that journey that gives that life meaning.
Feel free to set a direction, but be prepared for and welcome the changes that come along the way, for it is in that journey that we will truly live and ultimately find happiness.
It is enough to experience the world; you do not need to conquer it (Montezuma, Costa Rica)
An example from my life:
Early in my writing career, I worked for a magazine in Washington, DC. Every year, my boss and I would set goals for the next 12 months; e.g., 3 features, 10 department articles, 20 short pieces. And being a little Type A, I would accomplish my benchmark within 3 months. At the end of the 12 months, I might have tripled or quadrupled the expected output.
I would demand a promotion, and I would be told no…there were apparently other factors not included in my annual goals before I could be promoted. This pissed me off.
But surprisingly, even when I received the promotion, it was not enough. I needed the next one. I set the goals and again, felt held back despite achieving the goals.
And very quickly, the job I loved, the job I practically ran toward every morning in anticipation, became a leaden weight. I ceased to write for the love of writing. I was miserable.
In hindsight, I can see now how much I learned on that job—not the least of which was “office politics”—but at the time, all I could see was failure. It was the journey that helped shaped the man I am today, not the endpoints. I might have been happier had I realized that then.
The following video is a rather clever summation of my thoughts. Thanks to my friend Agah for pointing me to it!
This weekend is the 26th Annual Beaches International Jazz Festival in the east end of Toronto, an oddly named celebration of eclectic music of all origins and stripes…not just jazz. In fact, in two years that I have visited this festival, I have yet to hear jazz more than 10% of the time.
Nonetheless, it is a very well attended party that keeps me largely locked in my home for three nights as it takes up 20+ blocks of street closures.
After being coerced into the melee by a couple of friends today, I offer the following images.
The day was sunny and so was the eager crowd
Sales were apparently starting to pick up for this cherub
The shorter guitarist struggled to keep up
This young guitarist seemed unimpressed
For a guy entertaining kids, he looks pretty serious
This Greek band definitely gave the street a Mediterranean feel
As if one neck wasn’t more than enough
The percussionist was a man of many talents
The hat was everywhere on the strip
People of all races joined into the festivities
He didn’t specify what year he was awarded his prize
Man could definitely rock the accordion
They just showed up to have their picture taken
High energy, high tempo, high spirits
The young singer wanted the world to know her feelings
Keyboardist never flinched a muscle
Love the dog’s look of “What the…?”
Although not actually playing blues
She croons lovingly into the mics ear
Guitarist has a great evening
The festival gives you a 360 degree view of things
So, despite some early morning rain, Sunday ended up being a beautiful hot day in Toronto. And where better to spend such a day than wandering the boardwalk along Lake Ontario in the east end of the city.
At first, I wondered where the hell everyone was…the beach was almost deserted. Had traffic and construction finally gotten the better of everyone? And then it dawned on me: World Cup!
The day got that much more beautiful.
I’ll have another set of photos tomorrow, but here are some images of the birds that came out to play. Not all are technically wonderful photos…mostly a sign of how bright it was, how far off the birds were and/or how much I still have to learn about using my camera.
Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy.
Before dining on popcorn, this little beauty checks the photographer is cool
These little guys were having a high old time chasing each other in the dead tree
I like catching birds in flight, if I can…this was the best of the gulls
Less hip-hop and just coming into his colourful plumage
After morning rains, a deep puddle makes a good starling bath
A male sparrow makes the most of someone’s lost popcorn kernels
My camera struggled to focus on these swift moving guys
Too graceful for gulls, these snow geese flapped in the far, far distance
After shepherding the kids, mom needed to stretch
Feathered environmentalists, the starlings share their bath water
A young starling lets his momma know that it’s lunch time
It took me a few days, but I finally saw the musical tribute to my home and native land, written and performed by Canada’s Ambassador to the Stars (the actual stars, not the vainglorious ones) astronaut Chris Hadfield and his brother Dave.
It’s a beautiful little song, although I have to admit, parts of it feel really kind of hokey and it completely plays to many of the (don’t care if they’re true) stereotypes of my people.
Regardless, I hope everyone enjoys it (and comes to visit, if you don’t already live here…plenty of poutine to go around).
Mother, Nehiyaw, Metis, & Itisahwâkan - career communicator. This is my collection of opinions, stories, and the occasional rise to, or fall from, challenge. In other words, it's my party, I can fun if I want to. Artwork by aaronpaquette.net
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