brett florio

After all, perfect happiness may also be an unreachable goal; it is, as one writer put it, an imaginary condition that’s usually attributed to children by adults, and to adults by children.

Unconditional Parenting, Alfie Kohn

And the “one writer” Kohn references (whom I haven’t read):

Happiness is an imaginary condition, formerly attributed by the living to the dead, now usually attributed by adults to children, and by children to adults.

The Second Sin, Thomas Szasz

If there was a “happiness index” I’m fairly confident that I’d be on the upper end. I have an amazing wife, three beautiful girls, an honest and hardworking business partner, a fantastic team, good health, a 2 block commute, and more good books to read than I have time for.

So I’m not entirely sure if I attribute greater happiness to my girls, but I did attempt to do some research just now. Thinking my 4yo might be better able to understand the question than my 2yo, I asked her who she thought was happier, “You or me?” My 2yo immediately interrupted, “MEEEE!!!!!”

They ultimately decided that we were all happier, except for the baby, “because she’s sleeping.”

And though the original quote isn’t necessarily phrased to suggest that one group is happier than the other, that’s what it turns into in my mind. And while I naturally want my children to be as perfectly happy as possible, can they achieve that if I don’t first model it?

Or my wife. Can she be perfectly happy if I’m not?

Or my team. Can they be happy in their jobs if I’m unhappy in mine?

Or the question that naturally follows: Can I be happy if they are unhappy? (And perhaps the more interesting question: Should I want to be?)

I don’t have answers, but there are a few things that do come to mind when thinking about happiness, like a study suggesting that social networks show clustering of happy and unhappy people. Here’s a concise summary:

Happiness, in short, is not merely a function of personal experience, but also is a property of groups. Emotions are a collective phenomenon.

Also interesting, from the same:

And we found that each additional happy friend increases a person’s probability of being happy by about 9%. For comparison, having an extra $5,000 in income (in 1984 dollars) increased the probability of being happy by about 2%.

Though it may seem distasteful, the economic reality of happiness is worth mentioning. Reminds me of the fantastic writings on happiness over at Freakonomics.com, showing (quite persuasively) that happiness is indeed tied to income, relative income, and your nation’s GDP (among other interesting things).

So even if I don’t have answers to the more abstract, can I answer the question, “What am I doing to be happier, and to make those around me happier?” At this point in my life, I’m trying to encourage more, judge less, and love always. (That’s another line from Kohn’s Unconditional Parenting, but I think it works well in other areas of life.)

What about you? Do you attribute perfect happiness to anybody? What are you doing to be happier, and to help those around you be happier?

1. Knowing = Half the Battle
2. Quantity of Unknown Unknowns = ∞
3. Knowledge of Unknown Unknowns = One Fourth the Battle (proposed) ≅ Humility
4. Knowledge + Humility + Execution = The Battle

Pretty sure there’s a kitschy business book thesis in there that could become a bestseller to the entrepreneurs of my generation that have a soft spot for G.I.Joe. Though it’d probably be more successful if I could get Cobra Commander to guest author it.

Thanks to @lukestokes for the inspiration. Maybe he’ll be kind enough to write the foreward.

During a wedding reception I attended last night, a conversation I was a part of turned to health care, employee benefits, and taxes. The most vocal of the participants, in between drags of his cigarette, was explaining to those who opposed the individual mandate that they should simply get involved and work to change the laws.

As if that wasn’t quite enough to indicate his willful indifference for any deeper issues (constitutional or otherwise), he then confidently proclaimed:

The majority wants it, and to a certain extent, the majority is always right.

I hadn’t previously agreed with every point this gentleman was making, but I was taken aback by this statement. I interjected something like, “Surely you don’t actually believe that. What about the tyranny of the majority?” Again, up to this point the conversation had seemed sane and intelligent enough, but I’m still in shock from what happened next.

He laughed, long and hard.

And he repeated (while laughing) “the tyranny of the majority,” making it clear he found the very concept laughable. Stunned, I asked him about the holocaust, then slavery, then how he’d feel if the Christian right (whom he’d previously expressed disdain for) was the majority.

I honestly am not even sure how he responded, as I was still completely dizzied by his bellowing laughter. Almost 24 hours later, I’m still confused. Regardless one’s opinion on the recent health care reform legislation, having such a romantic belief in (what amounts to) mob rule paired with the palpable and callous disregard for the rights of a minority population quite frankly terrifies me.

The Calf-Path
by Sam Walter Foss (1858-1911)

One day, through the primeval wood,
A calf walked home, as good calves should;
But made a trail all bent askew,
A crooked trail, as all calves do.

Since then three hundred years have fled,
And, I infer, the calf is dead.
But still he left behind his trail,
And thereby hangs my moral tale.

The trail was taken up next day
By a lone dog that passed that way;
And then a wise bellwether sheep
Pursued the trail o’er vale and steep,
And drew the flock behind him, too,
As good bellwethers always do.

And from that day, o’er hill and glade,
Through those old woods a path was made,
And many men wound in and out,
And dodged and turned and bent about,
And uttered words of righteous wrath
Because ’twas such a crooked path;

But still they followed — do not laugh —
The first migrations of that calf,
And through this winding wood-way stalked
Because he wobbled when he walked.

This forest path became a lane,
That bent, and turned, and turned again.
This crooked lane became a road,
Where many a poor horse with his load
Toiled on beneath the burning sun,
And traveled some three miles in one.
And thus a century and a half
They trod the footsteps of that calf.

The years passed on in swiftness fleet.
The road became a village street,
And this, before men were aware,
A city’s crowded thoroughfare,
And soon the central street was this
Of a renowned metropolis;
And men two centuries and a half
Trod in the footsteps of that calf.

Each day a hundred thousand rout
Followed that zigzag calf about,
And o’er his crooked journey went
The traffic of a continent.
A hundred thousand men were led
By one calf near three centuries dead.
They follow still his crooked way,
And lose one hundred years a day,
For thus such reverence is lent
To well-established precedent.

A moral lesson this might teach
Were I ordained and called to preach;
For men are prone to go it blind
Along the calf-paths of the mind,
And work away from sun to sun
To do what other men have done.
They follow in the beaten track,
And out and in, and forth and back,
And still their devious course pursue,
To keep the path that others do.

They keep the path a sacred groove,
Along which all their lives they move;
But how the wise old wood-gods laugh,
Who saw the first primeval calf!
Ah, many things this tale might teach —
But I am not ordained to preach.