"O Fortuna (O Fortune),
velut luna (like the moon),
statu variabilis (you are changeable),
semper crescis (ever waxing)
aut decrescis (and waning);
vita detestabilis (hateful life)
nunc obdurat (first oppresses)
et tunc curat (and then soothes)
ludo mentis aciem, (as fancy takes it);
egestatem (poverty)
potestatem (and power)
dissolvit ut glaciem (it melts them like ice)."
velut luna (like the moon),
statu variabilis (you are changeable),
semper crescis (ever waxing)
aut decrescis (and waning);
vita detestabilis (hateful life)
nunc obdurat (first oppresses)
et tunc curat (and then soothes)
ludo mentis aciem, (as fancy takes it);
egestatem (poverty)
potestatem (and power)
dissolvit ut glaciem (it melts them like ice)."
--- "O Fortuna", Carmina Burana ---
The older I get the more I realize that the Buddhists are right about one thing: happiness is not something that simply happens, but something for which we must strive. Part art, part science, the fact is that being happy requires a certain skill, or set of skills, that many of us don't bother to develop. We are born not knowing how to walk, and we even change the way we breath as we move out of infancy, yet we seem to think that "being happy" is as natural as existing, that it's the right set of external conditions that will allow or disallow it to occur, and that it's our birthright.
It's not, and in failing to give it the respect it's due, most fail to give it the necessary effort it's due, and forever wander aimlessly in its shadow instead.
Don't get me wrong: I'm just as subject to stress as the rest, just as cranky in the morning before I get my caffeine, and I find reading the news just as depressing as anyone else. But whenever I take a breath and a step back, I count my blessings and consider myself really fortunate. Well, "fortunate" is not really the right word.
You see, I love my life. I love Liza-Ann and Olivia. I love my friends and family. I love my home and our lifestyle. I love my job. I feel very content with it. I live in fear of losing any of these things I love so much, and then I reassure myself that a life without fear is a life devoid of anything worth having. Then I work very hard to keep them, and to improve them.
But this is not a lucky accident. I'm not lucky to have a good relationship; we work toward maintaining that relationship, together, as partners, by mutual respect and responsibility, and to mutual benefit. I'm not lucky to have a job I enjoy. I work hard at that job and at keeping it moving in directions I will find satisfying and rewarding. I try to cultivate my friendships as best I can, and to choose my friends carefully.
Many years ago I wrote My Treatise on Life. I didn't really presume to think others were going to read it, commit it to memory, and somehow be all the much happier for it. It wasn't a blueprint for the world; it was a blueprint for me. I shared it because if it helped anyone else, even the littlest bit, it makes the world a slightly better place, and I get to reap the benefits of that too. But looking back now, nearly 13 years later, I can honestly say I've tried very hard to live by all the advice I gave myself so many moons ago, and that I'm a much happier - and better - person for it.
I find myself of late surrounded by not just a few, but several people going through break-ups of long-term relationships. There's a lot of anger, resentment, finger-pointing, and crying to go around. And in some of these cases, I want to take at least one, if not both, of these people and shake them, shout the third paragraph of Pursue Your Own Happiness from the Treatise at them, and tell them they'll never be happy until they 'grow the fuck up'. Now I don't know all the circumstances of these relationships, especially since most of the people involved are acquaintances and not close friends, but what I can say is that try as I may to listen, it seems a lot of what I hear contains more 'he/she' than 'I'. And it's not truly that I want to slap them, it's that I want them to be happy, and I feel like one or both of them is just cocking it up with confused or unrealistic expectations, especially of their partners.
It is no one else's responsibility to make you happy: not your parents', not your teacher's, not your god's. That's why Buddha told you to kill them.*
And you know what? The next time you catch me bitching and whining about something, feel free to quote this at me and remind me it's my own responsibility to make myself happy. I'll deserve it, and I'll probably thank you for it.
Every now and then, when I tell Liza-Ann I love her, she responds by asking "why?" and puts me on the spot. And you might think it sad or odd that I don't immediately respond with "you make me happy" (though she really, really helps, and I try to help her), but it's not her job. The first, and best, answer that always springs to mind is "you help me be a better person". That's a great thing to do for someone, and it's why I work to keep her.
But being happy - that's my own responsibility.
Accepting that fact was the first step in getting here.
"It's a fragile thing
This life we lead
If I think too much I can get
overwhelmed by the grace
By which we live our lives
with death over our shoulders"
--- Sirens, Pearl Jam ---
*Note: that's not actually what he said, from what I've read.
