Happiness

Anybody who knows me at all knows that I’m somewhat of a reading junkie. I read non-fiction stuff for work all the time, but when I have any free time I read fiction. I’m sure to many the idea of reading for work during the day and fun in the evenings is only a notch above a dentist’s visit, but it’s what I enjoy.

I have absolutely nothing against books on a tablet; I just enjoy a real book. I love to turn a page and discover that a previous reader had, at some point, dog-eared. When I find this page I assume that it has some significance, and was not just the stopping point of a reader without a bookmark. I assume this because the only reason I permanently mark a page is because I intend to return to it and re-read a passage.

Honestly I rarely return to this page because I don’t need the passage word for word. If it genuinely means something to me I will remember the gist of it, and while I may bastardize it, I run with it as remembered. Maybe it’s just my state of mind, but today I went back and re-read a passage that I chose to mark because I wanted to hear it again exactly as it was written.

The book is certainly fiction; it is about a group of white women that were traded (for horses) to a band of Western Cheyenne Indians in the 1870’s. It was intended as a gesture of peace, and while the government did not officially sanction the trade, they facilitated it. The story is interesting, but the passage I returned to was in response to the question of whether the Indians (and their Indian brides) were happy. The response was “happiness is a highly overrated human condition invented by white folks”. Basically with all they had to do to survive, the notion of happiness as a yes or no question was a foreign concept.

So this invention of unhappiness is in response to what? Not having enough to do? Not having as much as your neighbor even though you have all you need? This makes happiness a quantifiable item, something that can be measured. “I’m a 6.5 on the happiness scale, things are looking up!” Of course it has no measure; you either choose to be happy or not. But if you don’t think you are unhappy, doesn’t that in itself make you happy? Think about it….wait; don’t think about it!