I am at a moment in life where things are changing rapidly, and it is during this time that I'd like to look back on the things I have learnt so far that I won't likely be reminded of for a while.  In this Journal entry, I'd like to cover happiness.  

To not be happy is still to be.  I remember my first philosophy class at St. Olaf was an Interim course on "Love, Friendship, and the Good Life", where we covered the topic of happiness in some detail.  I've since forgotten that detail, so if you'd like to ground the ideas I'm about to present in a philosophical tradition, please feel free to do so in the comments section!*

"What do you want from life?" is a question everybody probably asks themselves at some point.  There are the superficial answers - I want to be rich, famous, beautiful.  Each of these does not seem sufficient in its own right, though, as at least I would want to find a deeper reasoning behind the question "why do you want to be rich/famous/etc?"  When pressed, I think many people would say that deeper meaning is happiness.  In having money, they become happy, and happiness is a goal on its own.  

I don't dispute that happiness is a goal on its own, but I do dispute that its seeking is the purpose of life.  Life to me is much richer than that, as the past years have taught me.  Happiness, or pleasure, is but one of the emotions that I want to experience in life.  I also want to experience many other emotions: fear, loneliness, gratitude, pride, hope. . .

Indeed, I would say that emotions are but one aspect of life that matters to me.  Intellectual pursuit, family and friends, my role in society - these are all categories that I would look to in order to define the purpose of life, of what it means 'to be'.  There may be emotions involved in these other areas, but they are not about emotion.  At least, I don't think they are.  Let's engage in a few thought experiments.

If I were to win a Nobel Prize, there would certainly be emotion attached to that - probably at least gratitude and pride (and indeed happiness).  But would I seek the prize for the emotion?  I don't think I would.  I would seek it for it's own sake.  This seems a compelling argument, but I want to take it one step further and say that, in seeking it for its own sake, I become content.   Contentment, however, is not what I would describe as an emotion.  Rather, I would describe it as a state of being.  This leads me nicely to my next point.

I think that, as there are many types of emotions, there are also many states of being, contentment being just one.  I believe that the purpose, at least of my life, is to experience these different states of being depending on my situation in life.  For example, if I am in a situation where I cannot be content, I may be searching for contentment, but at the same time I should be focusing on the particular qualities of the state of being I am in, such as a state of frustration or apprehension.  

In other words, I think I could say that I revel in my state of being, partly because it is transient, and transience is one of the fundamental characteristics of life. 'To be', then, is the purpose of life.

Let's have another thought experiment.  Thirty years from now, one would think I would likely have a career, a family, a good group of friends, and be at least marginally financially secure.  My purpose in life, however, is not to gain these things.  What if my career were to be swept out from under my feet by a disease, or by others who would not allow me to advance?  What if I never found a wife, never had children, or - God forbid - that they were taken away from me?  What if none of my friends were around anymore?  What if I was still scraping together the pennies for next month's rent?  Would I have failed in my purpose in life?  If I only had some of these things, would my purpose be only partially filled?

My answer to the last two questions is no.  Purpose is tied not to what I have, but to what I do - mentally and physically - with what I have.   This brings me to two points: that 'to be' is an active, not passive. verb; and that purpose is tied to what we have control over.

First, 'to be' is active.  'Reveling in a state of being' may seem a bit like navel gazing, but I argue it involves actually being in that state, in addition to being aware of it.  Part of 'being' is 'doing' things.  I cannot exist without interacting with other things, or put another way, it is through interaction that I exist.  Existence is a precursor to being, therefore I cannot 'be' without interaction (again, remembering my philosophy a bit more would probably help me out here…).  

But surely, you may argue, interaction by itself is not enough to fulfil our purpose in life.  It must be interaction of a particular kind.  I agree, but unfortunately at the moment I cannot justify my agreement (that's the beauty of a Journal entry versus a paper!). Perhaps that will be food for another Journal entry.

My second point is that purpose is tied only to what we have control over.  This point explains much of why physical or social gains fall short.  Once we interact with the world, we are constrained by it and in turn constrain it ourselves.   To be rich is only possible if many factors out of my control go my way (in addition to any effort on my part).  Likewise, my being rich or famous may result in others not being able to achieve the same end.  I do not feel that the purpose of life should be tied to a particular temporal/spacial/social context.  Put another way, I think that everyone has the same purpose in life: to be as best they can in the context they find themselves.

And now, to return to my starting point, I hope that you can see now that this purpose may mean that we lead a happy life, but only if circumstances permit.  If they do not permit happiness, I believe that we could still live a purposeful life.  I say all this mainly because at the moment my life is filled with happiness, but I hope that this serves as a reminder, to me and others, that happiness isn't what it's all about. 

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* I have been known to reinvent entire schools of thought on a regular basis.  Nick and Kathleen remember me bursting into the common room at New College one day and espousing my great ideas on the advancement of society, to which they calmly listened and then looked at me and said, "that's great, Sam.  You've just invented Marxism."