Happy and Remembrance

More so than the meaning of life, the question of 'Are you happy?' seems to come up time and again over the course of a person's lifetime. Am I happy? What is the context of that question? Is it a question about my state of mind and that very precise moment in time, or is it a question about how I feel about my life most of the time. If I am happy 51% of the time, then overall I am happy.

Happiness is defined as : characterized by or indicative of pleasure, contentment, or joy.

I think contentment is what we are really asking about. Happiness tends to relate to specific moments in life, as in "Are you happy today?". Contentment is an overall assessment of your life. Are you content with where you are in your life? I hate this question, as people we are never content. How can we ever say we are content no matter what we are doing or where we are. To be content is more of a percentage based question, I am content most of the time. It's the same with happiness. I am never happy all of the time...I am never content all of the time. If anyone out there is, then they are what I would call enlightened and have achieved everything there is to achieve in life and have nothing left to look forward to in this life. So then, they would become so depressed at this fact and thus end their lives. That's how I view that question...what a horrible question to ask someone.

I wanted to make two seperate posts but I figured I would just do one and be done for a while. Consider this paragraph the breaker between the two subjects.

"The problem with forgetting is that you remember." - Tim O'Brien

I never understood this until I lost my nephew. I have tried to forget him, put his memories out of my mind, but the more I try to forget the more I remember. Either I see a little boy with his parents at the grocery store, or someone brings him up in conversation. It's impossible to forget him. I have given up trying to forget and have chosen instead to remember. The cute things he did or said. Playing with him, watching him run around like an idiot and tripping over everything on the floor. Remembering when he broke his arm, him falling down the stairs at my mom's house. The cries, the smiles, the laughs. The spiderman toy I bought him for Christmas that scared him to death.

The problem with forgetting is that you remember. Just remember...