It takes effort to feel happy--likely because the effort makes whatever reward worthwhile, and because if we are honest, the effort is reward enough. Even when the task is bothersome and morose (perhaps especially then) we find the satisfaction that we search for. I think we are hard-wired to give, to sacrifice, to love. We fight against it; we fight to preserve ourselves and to mitigate risk. But eventually we must cave and fight for something else, and it is then that we finally decide that we are glad to be alive.
I write this truly as a note to myself. I speak generally, but I write “we” only in reference to myself and the reflection I am writing to. I feel it necessary to remind myself, us, that the life I live is one full of pleasantness and joy. I smile and I don’t know why. I receive gift upon gift each day through the presence of my friends, family, coworkers, and strangers. So I am pressed to catalog this not for need of convincing myself that these stated axioms are indeed true, but because it remains a dire choice to choose how to respond to the existence around us. We can find a reason to hate the world should we want to. We can also choose to love each step we take, love each time we meet the gaze of another, love each moment we can muster to live through. It is the more challenging option. I do not know why, but I know that it is. And that is why I feel I must write this to myself--because the acceptance of both the joy and the effort consumed in the process give me the strength I do not have to continue.