The Happiness Theory: Insights from a Japanese Christmas Party.

Envision a typical Christmas gathering scene in a Japanese university classroom. As each person speaks their turn, the rest remain silent and attentive. The atmosphere is often tense, providing, however, an opportunity to refine your thoughts.

I found myself leading off. “This was a very happy year for me…” I began. My words sparked confusion among my peers. We seldom openly respond to others’ remarks, yet, surprisingly, my statement ignited a series of confessions. “This year was just tough…I find myself constantly struggling. I can’t find anything to be happy about”, “I aspire to be as upbeat as Mariia, but facing thesis deadlines/ uncertain futures/ career hurdles/ plummeting yen, how is it possible?”

Here, I must dispel a crucial misinterpretation: my life is far from idyllic. I surely struggle with academic and career challenges, face indifference from friends, broken heart from lovers who leave me, and jeans that no longer fit. The fall of yen affects me too, and the global politics, so alarmingly close to catastrophe, drives me crazy. I do agonize over these issues, lament about my failures, and occasionally shed tears at night.

Like anyone else, I’m busy, I struggle, and I’m betrayed… and yet, I feel an unmistakable sense of happiness. I am not happy about these hardships, they just don’t diminish that inner feeling.

In fact, I hold the belief that the world is not designed to be neither fair nor kind. It doesn’t owe us anything. Some may call it low expectations, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be that pessimistic. On the contrary, I find magic in this idea.

So, what is so great about my life?

Here’s my equation. When good fortune comes, I treat it as a delightful surprise, cherishing each act of kindness and minor triumph: “I did some work and got payed! How marvelous!” Conversely, misfortunes aren’t detriments; they simply exist. A failure is a failure. A chance to learn or a story to tell to your grandchildren.

Take my recent incident with a harassing professor. So many tears of anger it brought; this story surely did not contribute to my happiness. Neither did it detract from it. But finding the strength to stand against this injustice? That scores a ten! a courageous step towards a better world. Or perhaps I chose to forget about it and move on — making that decision, whether right or wrong, holds significant value as well.

Ultimately, I view myself the opposite of what my classmates claimed me to be: more of a pessimist than an optimist.

I do not expect neither the world to be fair, nor people to be necessarily nice to me. And that’s what makes genuine acts of goodwill so precious. Why don’t we appreciate them more?

Perhaps the issue lies in the definition. To me, happiness isn’t about constant joy or a life free from struggles. It’s about embracing a broader perspective. That’s why it seems so straightforward to me.

The only blind spot of my theory is the causality. The classic dilemma: which comes first, the chicken or the egg?