Happiness is a chemical

There's a Jewish joke that I love. An old man is asked if he's happy. He answers: "I'm not 'HAPPY'" (said with arms in the air, voice raised loudly), "I'm 'happy'" (said quietly with a bit of a shrug). Which reminds me of myself. Most of the time I am happy. Not 'HAPPY', I'm 'happy'. So-so, happy enough.

Which isn’t enough in this happiness-obsessed world. Suddenly the race is on to find the Big H, with conferences, books and gurus all giving advice. It’s become an entire industry, with the million-dollar promise being: “How to find happiness.”

I think the real question is not how to find happiness. Which is relatively easy. Just give someone a chocolate, a romp in the hay, a sunny day, a holiday, a new love interest. It’s how to keep it that’s the problem.

Buddhists say that happiness is the precursor to suffering. Because it doesn’t last. It can’t, for two simple reasons: First, everything changes. Second, happiness is a chemical reaction.

When we feel happy or in love with something or somebody the body floods with pleasure. This pleasure is a rush of chemicals with a similar structure to amphetamines or speed, including adrenalin, dopamine, and norepinephrine. The heart races, the face flushes in delight as the neurotransmitters send chemicals into our nervous system. Later, opiates become involved to prolong the bliss.

Happiness is a natural high, and it’s healthy and wonderful for both body and soul. But, like any intoxicant, be it alcohol or drugs, it comes to an end as the body builds up tolerance. Or as circumstances change in the rough-and-tumble of reality. Happiness then becomes an addiction. And we become happiness junkies in search of the next fix, destined to suffer, to seek out a dealer who can keep us high, often trapped in a constant state of unhappiness while searching for the illusory Happy Ever After. In his masterpiece Three Sisters, Russian playwright Anton Chekhov captured this in the sisters’ obsessive lament: “When I get to Moscow…”

More real and more sustainable is contentment. As one contented person told me: “I find pleasure in simple things nowadays. My life isn’t thrilling, but it’s deeply satisfying.” Perhaps as a species we need the quest for the Holy Grail to keep us performing. But for me and many other recovering happiness junkies, the thing we most crave now is an end to the craving. Contentment is the road home.

www.theaustralian.com.au