I started thinking about this years ago when I ran away for the day to the far more amicable refuge of Barnes & Noble. There’s nothing like a household of demands to indelibly print “not-good-enough” on one’s psyche. And right there in the vestibule was a staggering wall of self-help books. Clearly, there’s no shortage of people searching for satisfaction, peace, happiness… though I’m not sure how many are told to start in a Barnes & Noble. Still, it’s comforting to know one is not alone.
There are so many of these books because, presumably, improving ourselves should make us happier. And sometimes it does – for a while. In my work, I keep an eye on what’s out there and what actually helps. Some approaches have real merit, but even the “game-changers” tend to lose their initial potency. The better ones leave some useful residue behind. Still, it raises the question: are we destined to keep pursuing happiness without ever quite getting there in a lasting way?
The Never-Ending Juggling On The Pursuit of Happiness
Part of the problem is that it’s hard to keep your eye on the ball when there are so many balls bouncing around. We’re surrounded by examples of how life could or should look, and when ours doesn’t match, it feels like a personal failure. But those benchmarks are usually just a single, curated snapshot. A blissful vacation photo that we take as a representation of an entire life story.
It’s the classic scenario: a kid happily enjoying one piece of candy—until the kid next to him gets two. I was that kid. Now I’m an adult who knows that two doesn’t actually make me happier. In fact, one was perfectly fine until comparison showed up.
So the question becomes: do we really need things to be better, or do we just need to know we’re not missing out on something better somewhere else? That sick feeling that everyone else is having a better time somewhere without you has a remarkable ability to evaporate the moment you realize it isn’t true. Suddenly, staying home feels just right again.
All those self-help books suggest that someone (at least the author) has figured it out—that they’ve reached some version of nirvana. But in the process, are we being nudged to chase our own version of that and, in doing so, pulling our attention away from what is already good?
There’s a saying (almost certainly misquoted) that the rich person is one who is happy with their lot. Beautiful, right? But if we are all content, would that be the end of progress? Why make things better if one is happy with what they have? My mother used to tell me, “the enemy of good is better,” which feels especially relevant in a world constantly selling “better.” So how do we pursue improvement without losing sight of what’s already good?
Should We Be Content With What We Have?
Maybe part of the answer is admitting we’re not very good at labeling things in real time. What looks like a problem now can look very different later. I remember some parable about a family whose son broke his leg and couldn’t help work the fields – tragedy, right? But then because of his broken leg, he wasn’t conscripted to fight on the front lines, making the tragic broken leg suddenly a miracle. We’re wired to notice what’s wrong – it keeps us alive – but it also means we over-focus on the negative and under-appreciate what’s already working. The point isn’t to become Pollyanna, but to remember that most things carry both sides, and dwelling only on one gives us an incomplete picture.
In coaching, a common question is: when have you actually felt happy, satisfied, or like you were thriving? When you look closely at those moments, patterns emerge – were they times of creativity, connection, movement, curiosity, etc.? And then you can get more specific: what kind of creativity, what kind of people, what kind of environment? The answers are often more familiar than expected. It is also important to remember that we are ever-changing and growing, so it’s not that we aren’t fulfilled, but that what brings satisfaction will forever quietly evolve; the pursuit is in modification, not necessarily a seismic overhaul.
Closet organizers will tell you that you probably already own most of what you need for a great wardrobe—you just can’t see it because of everything else taking up space. The same is true here. Or, as Michelangelo famously said, the sculpture is already complete within the marble; the job is to chip away the excess.
The bottom line? We likely know more than we think we do. More answers than we realize are already there. The work is in clearing out the distractions—the internal and external voices insisting on more, better and “should”. Most of us are closer to happiness than we think; the challenge is being able to see it. If you want a partner in exploring your own pursuit of happiness, contact us to set up a consultation!