Happiness once said to me,
“Walk this path and you will find paradise.”
So I rushed, I ran and I suffered,
Blind to all but the promised reward.
Until I met sadness who said to me,
“Don’t rush there, man or you will find nothing.”
Of course I accused him of being a liar,
A rain on my sunny dreaming.
So I set my mark and walked the dark tunnel,
Each step echoing with hope and fear,
Until I found my paradise,
It seemed so near.
I raised my hand to touch it,
Fingers trembling with desire,
And I found nothing but mud,
My dreams sunk in earthly mire.
Yet in that mud, a seed might grow,
Of wisdom earned, not freely given.
Perhaps true joy lies not in chasing,
But in living each moment, fully.
The Paradox of Joy
Isn’t it funny how we often think of happiness as a destination, only to find it’s more about the journey? This piece really nails that age-old quest for joy and the unexpected lessons we learn along the way.
Think about happiness promising paradise. It’s like what psychologist Daniel Kahneman calls the “focusing illusion” – we tend to overestimate how much a single change will affect our overall happiness. We chase these big goals, thinking they’ll solve everything.
In “The Myth of Sisyphus,” Camus writes, “One must imagine Sisyphus happy.” This paradoxical statement is reflected in the poem’s final lines “Perhaps true joy lies not in chasing, / But in living each moment, fully,” suggesting that happiness is found not in achieving a distant goal but in embracing the journey itself.
The poem’s portrayal of the futile chase for happiness (“So I rushed, I ran and I suffered, / Blind to all but the promised reward”) echoes Camus’s critique of the human tendency to seek absolute meaning or happiness in a world that offers none. As Camus states, “There is no sun without shadow, and it is essential to know the night.” This aligns with the poem’s recognition of both joy and sadness as integral parts of the human experience.
And then sadness chimes in, warning us not to rush. It’s not just being a downer. It’s tapping into what psychologist Carl Jung called “the shadow” – those parts of ourselves we often ignore or reject, but which often hold important truths.
The image of walking through a dark tunnel, each step echoing with hope and fear – that’s not just poetic. It’s like what existentialist philosopher Søren Kierkegaard meant when he talked about anxiety as the “dizziness of freedom.” Our choices matter, and that can be both thrilling and terrifying.
Now, that moment of reaching paradise only to find mud – it’s hitting on something deep about expectations versus reality. It’s reminiscent of what Buddhist philosophy calls “attachment” – the idea that our suffering often comes from clinging too tightly to our ideas of how things should be.
But here’s the kicker – finding wisdom in that mud. It’s like what psychologist Carol Dweck calls a “growth mindset.” Every setback, every disappointment, is an opportunity to learn and grow.
So what does all this mean? Well, maybe it’s about recognizing that happiness isn’t something we find – it’s something we cultivate. It’s not about reaching a destination, but about how we travel.
Remember, every moment, whether it feels “happy” or not, is a chance to live fully, to learn, to grow. As the philosopher Alan Watts said, “The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance.”
So next time you find yourself chasing after happiness, take a breath. Look around. Maybe joy isn’t waiting at the end of the path. Maybe it’s right here, in this moment, mud and all. Because in the end, isn’t that what true happiness is? Not some far-off paradise, but the ability to find beauty and meaning in each step of the journey.