231017 - Happiness

I’ve been teaching my girlfriend Swedish recently. We came to a longer discussion regarding the word “Happiness” in Swedish, or rather the fact that there is two words. Glädje. Lycka. Hebrew differentiates it the same, but in English there is only one. Glädje, the transient emotion of happiness, is the one that carries a stronger tone in the englihsh usage. Lycka is the subtler one, the one that lies underneath the transitoriness of moods. It’s stronger, enduring, in a way, although I’m hesitant to call it this, more pure, more permanent. We’re also talking about Swedish suffixes in the construction of sentences. Jag är lycklig. I am happy. These last two days, once again engulfing myself in Theory and the social structures which were forcefully abandoned in that tent and the Hippie community it was a part of, I find myself asking: do I have the right to be happy?

Certainly not a groundbreaking question, yet it subsists, forcing itself to be heard, to be recognized with a pressing demand. In, out, we breath. Hard, powerful, yet almost imperceptibly, our Heart beats. With which question will we allow its persistent beat to rhyme? In Camus we find the preliminary as he asks himself; should I kill myself? This cannot be viewed in the dismissive discourse of teenage anxt which it so easily could be placed into, but as the truly daring question it is. Is life worth living? Yes, he says. Why, he tells us, is for us to decide. Happiness, hen, is a new phenomena when taken as existential. We didn’t use to have to ask ourselves why we’re alive. Today, still, we might avoid it. But the structures that kept us safe from the outside world are crumbling, and we find ourselves isolated, alone. Looking into thte abyss we find our habitual escape disintegrating, suddenly forced to actually look ourselves in the face. Finding the courage to actually inspect it, can we respect ourselves enough to be proud of the substance our wrinkles have been forged from? Can we shed the skin of suppression which has kept our heartbeat silenced and listen to the tune that sings? To let its fateful melody not tempt us into nostalgic longing but to let it go until the chours, praising Eternal Love and the Happiness we all strive for. To let it show us the way, allowing our ears the freedom to simply listen instead of dissecting; The bravery to be silent. To let the suffering it paints not lead us into a crusade but simply to cry? Do I have the right to be happy? No, I have the duty to try.