An Essay On Happiness

What is "Happiness"? A quick google search reveals that happiness is: The state of being happy.
Thanks a lot google.

Dictionary dot com, on the other hand,  goes off the rails:   1, 2. pleasure, joy, exhilaration, bliss, contentedness, delight, enjoyment,satisfaction.  Happiness, bliss, contentment, felicity imply an active or passive state of pleasure or pleasurable satisfaction. Happiness results from the possession or attainment of what one considers good: the happiness of visiting one's family. Bliss is unalloyed happiness or supreme delight: the bliss of perfect companionship. Contentment is a peaceful kind of happiness in which one rests without desires, even though every wish may not have been gratified: contentment in one's surroundings. Felicity is a formal word or happiness of an especially fortunate or intense kind: to wish a young couple felicity in life.

That covers a LOT of ground. Time to put things in perspective.

All my life I have resisted the urge to feel happy.

Why? Superstition, maybe. Deep down in my core lurks the suspicion that "being happy" was just begging the fates to take a massive shit all over you.  Why, one could ask oneself, if one were not a narcissistic sociopath, do I deserve to be happy when there is SO MUCH SUFFERING in the world, and I don't mean just on the human scale, which is horrific enough, but the UNIVERSAL scale, in a world where life itself can only exist by the non-stop brutal murder and devouring of every other life form ever created? With the exception of vultures, I guess. But still. Seriously. What the fuck?

Then I got old, and everything, (and yes, I do mean everything) I have ever loved, either died, destroyed itself, just left me, or worse, had to be released by my own hand. The complete futility of my very existence, always prescient at the back of my mind from my earliest remembrance, came smashing into the arena of my daily consciousness. I know, I'm using a LOT of personal pronouns, but then, this IS all about ME. In my defense though, when I say me, I mean us, because we are all one, my child. Buddha be with you.

Anyway, like I said, I've always felt guilty about feeling happy. And here I am, in the waning years of my life, for the most part alone, save for two geriatric dogs, a couple of demanding cats, an indeterminate number of feral chickens, and a son who calls me every Sunday whether he wants to or not.

So what's my point? Happiness is overrated, and probably non-existent. What REALLY counts is gratitude. Being thankful for what you get. Having to not be hungry, truly a blessing. A toilet that flushes,  how wondrous!  A hot shower every night, miracle of miracles! Yes, that is the key. Being grateful lets you truly enjoy what you have, without being crippled by guilt. And there is something else...being grateful for what you can give. That is a double blessing. Having enough that you can share. It does not get better than that.