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Everyone wants happiness in life. I can’t imagine anyone arguing against this.
But what stands in our way of finding happiness and joy in our lives?
Often we blame external factors—our crappy job, our partners, our health, our physical appearance—as to why we feel unhappy.
Similar to the story I shared about joy, I want to take another dive into how spending time in remote places in Nepal showed me that being happy is simpler than our modern-day lives make it out to be.
What's Blocking Happiness?
Life is complicated these days. We’ve got a million different voices coming at us all the time.
Join the 5 am club to be more productive.
Make sure to get your ten thousand steps in.
Drink these greens every morning for mental clarity.
Subscribe to this meal kit so you can eat healthy but still work your ten-hour days.
Schedule in time for socializing for your mental health.
Meditate every day so you can shut out all the above voices and many more.
Personally, I find even thinking about all the work-related and wellness information that is constantly thrown at us to help make our lives easier just stresses me out.
Happiness Made Simple
Though I know most of us cannot simply walk away from our jobs and lives in a pursuit of true happiness, I think the bottom line behind finding some peace is cutting away all the external noise and coming back to gratitude for what really matters.
You didn’t get that promotion at work—so what?
You still haven’t made a routine of meditating each morning—so what?
You can’t manage to get to the gym three times a week—so what?
Just because you aren’t living some ‘ideal’ version of what you think your life could be, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be happy.
Finding Happiness in the Present
This isn’t me about to share a mantra.
What I mean by the present, is being aware of your immediate surroundings. Once you realize the people around you that you are able to share joy with, and see how much in life you already have, it’s evident that you are truly richer than you think.
Today I’m sharing another excerpt from my upcoming memoir, which will hopefully inspire you to find gratitude and richness in the present.
The ping-ponging noise from the ice continues for fifteen minutes. When the hail stops and the ghastly clouds part, we file out of the metal shed.
The sudden drop in temperature from the ice creates a rolling fog that flows down the hills and over the edges of the rice paddy steps. Two rainbows appear over the flat land in the center, creating a roof over the green and yellow crop fields below. The rainbow roof connects the steep slopes of trees on either side. It’s silent, except for the sound of goats and cows braying and mooing as they emerge from their emergency storm shelters. The mountains, the rainbows, the rolling fog, and the silence create a surreal fairy-tale scene.
“This is amazing!” I pan my eyes across the valley.
“Good thing we took the walk.” Mel opens her eyes wide. “I don’t think we’ll ever see something like this again.”
It’s true. We’re in the perfect place at the perfect time. Had we both been here days earlier or days later, we would have missed it. I left my phone and camera back in the hut before leaving for samosas, which I regret. We’re both mesmerized and forget about the potential damage to our mud hut . . . almost.
We hoof it back down the road to the school. The hut is still standing, though we might have new roommates. I swing open the bamboo door.
Mel checks under her bed for new creatures or eggs. “The eggs are just as I left them.”
“Phew!” I kneel next to my bed to check for anything underneath. “Well, I guess one thing is for sure, this hut is stronger than it looks!”
We celebrate the survival of our belongings and the hut with a hot cup of cinnamon tea, which we share with the two cooks at the school. We’re all laughing and talking about the storm that surprised and impressed not just foreigners but every villager here.
Though I could never survive on dhal bhat twice a day for eternity, nor could I tolerate the grass mattress forever, sharing their shock and surprise about the storm gives me the sense that I’m part of their community.
The strong raksi, the mud hut zoo, and the village diet now seem like a modest price to pay for what I’ve learned from living in Chandrawati.
Until now I always believed that competing for a flashy job title, saving up for a down payment on a fancy house, and owning a shiny vehicle would guarantee my happiness in life.
Staying in Chandrawati and seeing the joyful faces of the people here despite their basic living conditions has shown me that life doesn’t need to be so complicated. Fulfillment in life seems less dependent on monetary wealth than it is on finding happiness in everyday life and sharing that joy and love with the people around us.
More to read on travel!
If you’re interested to read more of this story you can pre-order my book here.
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