Most of you probably consider yourselves to be normal, happy people. You think that those doing better than you in life are also happier, and the people doing worse than you are most likely less happy. The guy you see at the bar with all of the friends and money and job security must enjoy life a lot more than you do.
On the other hand, the homeless man you pass on your way to the same bar cannot begin to relate to your own feelings of contentment and joy. These all seem like reasonable assumptions, but they are all wrong (or at least we cannot be sure they are right.)
Daniel Gilbert explains why in his book, "Stumbling on Happiness." He describes the lives of Lori and Reba Schappel, twin sisters who are conjoined at the skull. Most people would think that Lori and Reba live a depressed, bleak existence full of discomfort.
Yet, the Schappel sisters are cheerful, functioning people. They are jovial and downright optimistic. Reba has even recorded a country music album. Without a doubt, Lori and Reba are happier than a lot of people I know. How can this possibly be?
Gilbert says the explanation for the Schappels' happiness is actually found within their handicap. Gilbert does not dispute the fact that Reba's and Lori's lives are difficult and their experiences are nothing like our own. But despite all of these circumstances, even Lori and Reba continually have moments of happiness and even joy. The key to understanding the Schappels is to realize that what is merely pleasant to us may be utterly delightful to them.
Imagine rating every emotion you have ever had on a "happiness scale" of one to eight. While I have had plenty of happy experiences, there are still only a few moments that I could give an eight. Right now, getting into college, meeting Keira Knightley and beating Mario Golf are pretty much the only eights I have. Most everything else that makes me happy falls in the five or six range.
But the Schappels have probably never experienced any of my "five or six" moments. They have never ridden a roller coaster, played a game of basketball, or even gone on a date. Instead, they have an entirely different range of events to use on their own happiness index. Gilbert uses cake as an example. While I think eating cake is just fine, it pales in comparison to most of the other things I have done and therefore gets about a four on my scale.
But for the Schappels, cake might be it. It might be the best part of their day, or even their lives. It may be the only time they can block out the world around them and forget about their own troubles. As a result, the transcendent sensation Lori and Reba experience when eating cake is an eight to them but just a four to me. The happiness they feel with cake is exactly the same happiness I had in any of my "eight" moments.
This makes sense, but I also think it sucks. Not that people like Reba and Lori don't deserve joy, but there seems to be almost an inverse relationship between success and happiness.
Think about Neil Armstrong. Surely walking on the moon had to be one of his greatest experiences. But that was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Neil Armstrong can't just go back and visit the moon. So now I guess that everything he does, whether it be holding newborn grandchildren or shouting the correct answer while watching "The Price Is Right," can never match up to the moon walk, and perhaps there is a part of him that regrets walking on the moon in the first place.
Maybe the reason that I am so happy now is because I haven't really done all that much with my life. Aside from going to class, working hard and occasionally writing a column that is not widely despised, there isn't much I have accomplished. And if I ever do become truly successful, I may have to sacrifice my own happiness to get there.
One thing I found was that pondering my own happiness only diminished it. My advice is to accept your moments of joy and not question them. Because in the end, happiness is a lot like your own conception. Appreciate it; just don't think about it too much, because you are only going to feel worse.
Jordan Axt is a Trinity sophomore. His column runs every other Friday.
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