This is a philosophical article that explores the concept of happiness, starting from the connection with one’s own intimate human nature of doing as a “cure” for an imaginary life.
By Valeria Franco
Yesterday, I stopped to watch some swallows flying exactly above me. I started to think: I wonder if they feel happiness in flying—if a swallow feels a sense of pleasure. I would definitely feel happy if I could do what it does. But is the swallow capable of feeling such an emotion towards what it does by nature, by instinct? Or better yet, towards what it simply does as part of its survival, to procure food? As its simple “functioning” for which it is programmed in every shape, muscle, feather?
Then, I had a kind of enlightenment, a deep awareness: maybe we’ve got it all wrong. Maybe happiness is exactly that. Maybe the swallow is happy precisely because what it does coincides with its shape, to which it gives expression through flight.
On the other hand, there is nothing more unhappy than a bird in a cage that is prevented from flying.
So, what is my—our shape? I mean, our human-being shape? Perhaps there is so much unhappiness in the world precisely because we have forgotten about it.
As children, we easily find pleasure in the things we do, and we imagine that doing things will always give us pleasure. We imagine future jobs, and they all seem quite fun. The child finds it plausible to be happy working as a cashier: so many buttons to press, making products beep, giving change, saying “good morning” and “goodbye.”
Then, the adult finds themself doing it for eight hours, and they are mostly not happy. At most, they are happy despite that job, not “because of” it.
In this reflection, let’s not fall into the obviousness of “the child does not understand certain complexities” and “it is a matter of pay.” Of course, it is, but the real question is: where have we lost ourselves? How can we recover our happiness instead of inventing an alternative fantasy life that compensates for this lack?
If I look at my routine, I do many things that once gave me pleasure, but now they don’t, or much less. One component that has contributed to spoiling the pleasure of doing is . . . anxiety. I see that this is quite a common trait, but not the only one. Then there’s competition. Then there’s the lack of purpose, a pervasive sense of uselessness in what one does. Then there’s the disconnection from other people. Then there are the compromises, not doing what you really want to do and not having the time or money to do it or develop the skills to do it.
Finally, there is a digital world that makes everything easier and therefore . . . unsatisfactory. Because it does not allow us to do, but often produces a pre-digested output. We are losing, more and more, the sense of connection with our doing and making, like a swallow that is not quite sure what to do with its wings.
Let’s go back to the core of the reasoning: shape. Our human shape is the erect posture, which leaves our hands free, and a unique vocal apparatus connected to an exceptional brain. In other words, our shape leads us to build and communicate. To paint and sing. To walk and think. It does not lead us to press buttons or enter data unless there is a creative (creative, not artistic) component in those buttons and that data, which some people are able to find.
Here, the urgency that leads us to imagine another life—to escape from a lack of happiness—can find relief in reappropriating our form.
We can ask ourselves these questions as a guide: What is my shape of being human, and how does it express itself? How can I best express it? How can I reappropriate my physicality—my body—to connect with my life? How can I find creativity in my doing, or can I do it in a creative way?
I believe it doesn’t necessarily have to do with doing new or more things. Maybe it’s just about learning to be aware of what we already do. Cooking. Walking. Writing. Playing. Tyding. Fixing. Building. Singing.
I hope you find your shape, and follow it, and find that sense of fulfillment that I believe the swallow feels when it flies.