How to Be Lastingly Happy

Xuefeng

December 22, 2023

As I lay in bed last night, the moment I nestled into my covers, a profound sense of happiness swept over me. The joy stemmed from something as simple as my bed and blanket—the bed soft and yielding, the blanket thick and warm. To lie on such a bed, under such a blanket, was pure bliss.

But why did this simple comfort make me so happy? Perhaps it’s because I remember a time in the early '80s when I took a train journey during the busy New Year period. The train was so packed that for more than ten hours, there wasn’t a single seat to be had, not even in the aisles, which were crammed with people. Some even resorted to lying under the seats. At around 4 a.m., weariness overwhelmed me, and I thought, “If only I could have a bed to lie down and sleep in for life, that would be the utmost happiness.”

In Vanuatu, I stayed in a round, open-air room by the sea. The heat was so intense that a blanket was unthinkable, yet the mosquitoes were relentless, necessitating at least a sheet for protection. It was then I realized that sleeping under a blanket every night is a small slice of heaven.

Once, in junior high, I needed to travel over 60 kilometers to the county town to pick up a parcel. There were no buses, and we couldn’t afford a bicycle, so walking was the only option. I left home at the crack of dawn and by noon, hunger and thirst had set in. The restaurants in the county town were out of the question—a bowl of noodles cost more than one yuan, far too expensive for my meager budget. When I was about 10 kilometers from home, so hungry and thirsty I could barely stand, I spotted a tomato on the road. I snatched it up, wiped it on my shirt, and devoured it. Oh, the taste! In that moment, I knew that being able to eat one’s fill every day is a fundamental joy.

Growing up poor meant that during the summer, I had only one shirt to wear. When it got dirty, I had to wait until Sunday to wash it, as there were no spare clothes. I dreamed of the day when I would have a set of clothes to change into—that would be a true luxury.

As a child, especially in winter, fetching water meant carrying it from a spring several kilometers away. The adults would start their day with this task. When it came time for me to wash my face, I used the water my grandmother had already used. I longed for the day when I would have fresh water of my own.

In my youth, whenever I passed through the neighboring village of Yangjia Gully, I saw a young boy crawling on the ground, his lower limbs paralyzed. He was always covered in dirt, and it broke my heart. I realized then how fortunate one is to have the use of their limbs.

I often saw people begging for food—children, middle-aged women, the elderly—all wearing tattered clothes, pitifully going from house to house with a bowl, with nowhere to sleep at night. I thought to myself, “If one could have work and strive not to fall into the plight of begging for food, that would be a truly happy life.”

Having a bed to sleep in at night, being able to cover oneself with a blanket, eating one’s fill, having clothes to change into, having clean water to wash one’s face in the morning, having healthy limbs, and having something to do every day—oh, what a happy life.

Are you happy?