The Pursuit of Happiness

From my youth I sought happiness.

I thought that is what we are here to do.

Have not our fathers said,

“Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness?”

Is not that what they came here for?

And are we not their heirs?

But what is happiness,

And how do we pursue?

At tender age happiness is sunny play,

But in the course of years the play goes stale,

And the tedious vexation of ennui

Drives all my pleasures away.

All the pleasures of the adult senses,

Do likewise decay and yield a harvest

Of futility, vexation, and irritated temper.

O deliver me from this misery!

Perhaps high ambition shows the way.

Win the palm, gather your trophies,

Bear your blushing honors in the limelight

Before the cheering crowds.

Inflate your image in the eyes of men

And gratify your hungry pride.

Then sated by the admiring eyes of men

Happiness will burst forth

From the breast of swollen pride.

But that is not worshipful admiration I see.

Their eyes are filled with bitter envy.

I feel more hatred than love.

And those very few who really love me

Are led astray because I have become an idol to them.

Thus, my achievement has bred

Only hatred, strife, and idolatry

And has filled my little world with misery.

The shining moment in the sun

Withheld the joy I sought.

Someone has deceived me

But my own heart was eager to be fooled.

I remember only from those sweaty and fretted days

A dizzy whirl of frenzied toil

And heavy burdens to carry home at night

And a prison of care to await me in the morn.

          I thought to console myself

In the thought that power and influence, wisely used

Can bring a little good upon earth.

But no sooner were my little sand castles built

But they were washed out to sea,

Soon forgotten and all the good

Carried off by the hasting tide and

Dissolved in the boundless sea.

And then I remembered

The long struggle to fend off the hungry wolves

Who lusted for my place in the manic pack

And who thought I possessed what they craved

And did not know not that

I had nothing good in my hands.

The thrill of pride in power and promotion

Lasts but a moment

And soon leaves a sickened emptiness in the heart.

The legion of the mediocrities,

The surly and mangy pack,

Ringed round me snarling and snapping.

They Hated me with hearty energy

And greatly celebrated in my fall.

They have found their dark and slimy happiness

In the ruin of my pride.

The deepest wounds were made by

The jaws of envious friends.

My fleeting day of a little measure of glory

Was too much for them to endure.

Tormented by the agonies of jealousy

They sharpened the daggers of revenge,

And greedily planned their treachery.

The bitter wounds of betrayed love

Are poisoned by an adders venom

And often repeat their stings

In the many weary years of memory’s review.

Perhaps the consolations of work

Will carry me through the weary trek.

Maybe happiness is hidden in work.

Let us look to the journey

And not to the destination.

Ah, this is better.

There is a satisfaction

In a day of wholesome labor.

Whatever the outcome.

It was a good day engrossed in the task;

Free from care, with happy moments

And flashes of merriment and convivial sentiments.

But still my heart hungers in its core.

It says “feed me or I perish.”

What food do you seek, O my heart?

My soul, why are you still downcast?

Perhaps, I need a quest of higher worth;

An adventure in the great cosmic battle

Of good at war with evil.

Ah, the thrill of battle!

Defying evil and despising danger.

I tell you there is a joy in it.

But the hero’s lot is not a happy one.

He multiplies enemies

In a battle with no respite.

And while he is facing down his foes

He faces a darker battle within

As his inner demons lay siege

Upon the bulwarks of his proud righteousness.

There is no rest or surcease

In the watches of the night.

The inner battle rages on

In dreams of horror

Or in sleepless nights of dread.

At length his proud resolve cracks

And he fades into acedia and lassitude.

And finally comes despair

As his high blown pride is humbled once again.

Perhaps the pursuit of Truth

Will be a higher and better way.

Ah yes, this is better indeed!

Ah the depths and the glories of knowledge and truth

Which delight the nobler precincts of the heart

And exalt the mind to loftier planes.

I tell you there is joy in it!

Yet the joy comes unexpectedly,

Lingers briefly, and flies.

And when it is gone,

The mind sinks into an exhaustion

Heaver than any workman knows

And the heart turns to lead.

I shall rest and try again tomorrow.

But tomorrow the joy and the inspiration are gone,

The knowledge is stale,

And the dark poison of pride

Seeps up from the roots

And contaminates the work

Transforming a thing of beauty into ugliness.

Oh God! Where now shall I turn?

Who can redeem this ruined and blighted life?

At the end of my strength

I give this mangled life to you.

Can you salvage it?

Even happiness I forsake.

Oh illusion, there is hidden in your pursuit

A deadly snare to our feet.

From henceforth I forsake the world

And pursue God and Him alone.

And there He is waiting to meet me:

His long suffering patience looking to the day

That I forsook the dismal chase

Of this lost world’s desperate strife

And turn my face to Him.

And in His presence

A glory overwhelms me

That uplifts my mind

As it tears my heart in shreds.

A joy so great that it wounds.

A wound which bleeds tears

Of purest bliss.

An awakened life so intense

That is like a death.

And all the world

Awakens to new lights, colors, fragrances

And the dismal earth

Takes on the sweet aspect of heaven.

I try to ask Him, is this happiness?

But cannot say the words.

Instead there comes forth

A flood of tears mixed with laugher.

“Enough, enough” I cry.

“Take this flood of angelic happiness away.

I am only a weak mortal man

And I can endure it no more.”

Fred Hutchison