Happiness Exists?

It ​has been a long time since I last wrote, but today I felt like writing something—specifically about happiness

​As usual, let’s follow the flow. There are too many things happening all around us, and we don’t have time to realize what happiness really is—yet we all want to be happy.

​I’m not trying to explore the regular definition of happiness; I’m trying to explore happiness itself. We feel happy when the expected happens—but it’s not a formula, because not every expected outcome ends in happiness. This is where the impact—positive or negative—arises.

​The next question that arises is: how do we actually perceive happiness? It’s a moment where every worry and distraction fades away, keeping us entirely in the present. Our surroundings blur, leaving only a sense of weightlessness.

​Is this truly happiness? I suspect not. It feels less like joy and more like a brief suspension of tension—a moment where a crowded brain relaxes and mistakes relief for happiness. But why isn’t that enough? Because true happiness is an active state, not just the absence of noise. My cousin often tells me, ‘I’m peaceful, but I’m not happy.’ Maybe he’s mistaken, or maybe he recognizes the crucial difference between simply being at peace and actually being fulfilled.

​Deep down, I feel everyone has a secret desire to feel sad or pity themselves. It seems like the exact opposite of happiness—yet somehow, that very sadness brings its own strange kind of comfort. How can something so contrasting to happiness end up giving us a sense of fulfillment? Or is it simply our own dark form of satisfaction—a state where, even when we know the solution, we choose not to reach for it?

​Look at what happens at the extremes of human feeling: extreme joy and overwhelming grief both burst out as tears. Visually, physically, the body doesn’t distinguish between them—a tear of ecstasy looks no different than a tear of sorrow. To the body, the mechanism is identical: an overflow of pressure that must be released. If the biological response to peak happiness and peak sadness is exactly the same, perhaps our mind confuses them more often than we realize. Extreme sadness and extreme happiness are just two faces of a single coin. Until we realize how they work, we remain passengers to their emotional pull.

​The Dissolution of the Coin

​When I look even deeper, beyond both the light and the shadow, something unexpected happens. The moment I fully release both happiness and sadness, both dissolve completely. What remains is not just a coin with two sides, but a coin stripped of its faces entirely.

​Perhaps I am wrong, or perhaps my mind is playing tricks on me—but in that space, it feels as though neither happiness nor sadness actually exists. They are not absolute truths; they are merely illusions of the mind, labels we cling to in order to define an experience.

​When the story stops, when the expectation vanishes, there is no joy to capture and no grief to endure. There is only the underlying reality: a quiet, unshakeable presence that simply is.

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