Last week, my brother Justin and I were talking, and during the conversation, he mentioned how happy he was with his life. Recently, I was part of a larger conversation that started with someone complaining about how bad their life had been.
Warning: People occasionally point out how much worse off they are than others and how nobody can relate to them. On the one hand, I agree. I don’t know what it is like to be someone else. They don’t know what it is like to be me, except in Justin’s case. I have a pretty good idea of what it is like to be him. We grew up together, worked together, and enjoyed many of the same things.
My recent conversations made me think about the world’s happiest and most fortunate person. I have created him in my head. He lives in a remote area of Africa. He has just enough food and a home with everything he needs. He has nearly everything he wants, but his limited knowledge of everything the world has to offer has led him to believe he could not possibly want more.
When he was a child, his mother woke him up every morning singing a lovely little song. He was above average when he went to school, and his teachers always ensured he understood the lessons. He got along with everyone who wanted to get along with him; he was blessed with many friends, but not a best friend. After school, he played soccer with the other kids every day. His friends would say he was above average. When it came to picking teams, he was never picked first but never picked last. He and his friends welcomed anybody who wanted to join in playing with them, even the younger kids. He would play to win, but they treated everybody with respect and followed the rules.
He got along with his family. As a young adult, his family lives close by, but they didn’t micromanage him or get too involved in how he lives his life. His parents encourage him to go places and do things he doesn’t want to, but when it is said and done, he realizes that he had fun.
In his free time, he enjoys cheering on his favorite team and watching them frequently, but not every game because they aren’t always on TV. They are a decent team but not spectacular. They are often competitive and even win the league championship a couple of times, but they are not considered the dominant team in the league.
If he were asked to rank his life on a scale of one to ten, he would say it is a six. He is about as happy as a person could be. Why?
He is content.
Kim Kardashian is rich, beautiful, and famous. Jerry Seinfeld is rich, funny, and loved by everybody. Tom Brady is rich and considered by most to be the best football player ever. He played the most important position in America’s favorite sport. He has won more championships than anybody else in the history of football. But my imaginary guy, living in remote Africa, is happier than all three.
In my mind, he is happier because he has everything he needs and wants. He doesn’t have outside pressure on him, and everybody around him shows consideration for him, which allows him to live happily.
So, what? What is my point with my story of the world’s happiest and most fortunate person? Am I writing this to tell people they should be content with their lives and move on? No, that is too hard.
Can I know what it is like to be them? No. Instead, I am thinking of the people around me and wonder how I can improve the quality of life for everyone I come into contact with.
Have I considered singing a happy song to people to greet them for the day? No, because I don’t sing very well. But I can greet them warmly.
Can I include more people in the things I do? Can I learn from others’ experiences? Can I help others learn from my experiences?
Yes, yes and yes. All for free.