Happy and Contented
“He was happy and contented” we say, frequently putting the two words together in a phrase, which suggests we don’t think they are the same thing. Otherwise we’d just say “happy”, wouldn’t we? It was pointed out to me the other day that because until relatively recently we didn’t expect to live much beyond the age of thirty-something, we didn’t evolve with a contentment gene that kicks in at forty. It wasn’t necessary, because we’d be dead by then.
Actually, I don’t think that’s the reason we never got the contentment gene. Our DNA just didn’t want us to have it. You’re as old as you feel, right? Well, most of us feel about twenty-one, and it’s all our DNA’s fault. Our DNA, of course, regards us merely as a useful tool to replicate itself. By the age of forty many of us have done this, and reared the results, which consist of more DNA of the kind that listens to loud music and doesn’t tidy its bedroom.
Once we’ve done that, the DNA loses interest, and has no further care for how we feel or investment in our behaviour. Okay, a bit of contentment might be pleasant for us, but what’s the benefit in evolutionary terms? None at all that I can see. DNA’s not into contentment, not anywhere.
When the bluetits have exhausted themselves rearing a whole nestful of chicks, and those chicks have fledged and left the nest, do the bluetits think to themselves hey, great, job done, I’ll just spend the rest of the summer sunning myself on the bird table? No, they don’t. They think wow, fantastic, just time for another brood before the autumn if we get a move on.
And it’s the same with us. What if suddenly, on our fortieth birthday, we woke up contented? This job’s great, we’d think, and I love my house exactly as it is. The garden’s fantastic, I’ll keep it that way for ever. I’m totally happy with my standard of living and when my cat dies I’ll get another one just the same. My partner is gorgeous and I’m never going to even glance at another human being and think I might fancy them.
Of course, some of us are like that: but then some of us were like that at twenty-one and didn’t seem to have any of the drives that fire the rest of us.
The rest of us stay how we always were – contented in some areas, perhaps, but in others always seeking something different, new, better. It’s happiness we seek, not contentment. This kind of potatoes will grow better than last year’s and that will make me happy. I’m going to change my job, or travel to Thailand, or find a new partner, or learn the tango, or buy a new house, and that will make me happy.
So what is happy? Happy is more fleeting than contentment – it’s that lifting feeling inside when you suddenly feel wow! all’s well with the world! But it doesn’t last.
The contented middle-aged are in some ways lucky – they perhaps don’t have that much Happy, but neither do they have much Depths of Despair. The trouble is, they’re a bit - - well - - dull. Those who retain their drive to explore new things, to move forward, are easy to mock, and the contented mock them. “But why do you WANT to do this?” they say. “What, at your age?”
They say these things partly out of fear. They know, in their heart of hearts, that they’ve missed out, that we weren’t made to be contented, that it’s better to have the ups and downs of emotion and to help each other through the downs. After happiness, the next thing to come along is sadness, but the happiness will come back. After contentment, the next thing to come along is death.
Actually, I don’t think that’s the reason we never got the contentment gene. Our DNA just didn’t want us to have it. You’re as old as you feel, right? Well, most of us feel about twenty-one, and it’s all our DNA’s fault. Our DNA, of course, regards us merely as a useful tool to replicate itself. By the age of forty many of us have done this, and reared the results, which consist of more DNA of the kind that listens to loud music and doesn’t tidy its bedroom.
Once we’ve done that, the DNA loses interest, and has no further care for how we feel or investment in our behaviour. Okay, a bit of contentment might be pleasant for us, but what’s the benefit in evolutionary terms? None at all that I can see. DNA’s not into contentment, not anywhere.
When the bluetits have exhausted themselves rearing a whole nestful of chicks, and those chicks have fledged and left the nest, do the bluetits think to themselves hey, great, job done, I’ll just spend the rest of the summer sunning myself on the bird table? No, they don’t. They think wow, fantastic, just time for another brood before the autumn if we get a move on.
And it’s the same with us. What if suddenly, on our fortieth birthday, we woke up contented? This job’s great, we’d think, and I love my house exactly as it is. The garden’s fantastic, I’ll keep it that way for ever. I’m totally happy with my standard of living and when my cat dies I’ll get another one just the same. My partner is gorgeous and I’m never going to even glance at another human being and think I might fancy them.
Of course, some of us are like that: but then some of us were like that at twenty-one and didn’t seem to have any of the drives that fire the rest of us.
The rest of us stay how we always were – contented in some areas, perhaps, but in others always seeking something different, new, better. It’s happiness we seek, not contentment. This kind of potatoes will grow better than last year’s and that will make me happy. I’m going to change my job, or travel to Thailand, or find a new partner, or learn the tango, or buy a new house, and that will make me happy.
So what is happy? Happy is more fleeting than contentment – it’s that lifting feeling inside when you suddenly feel wow! all’s well with the world! But it doesn’t last.
The contented middle-aged are in some ways lucky – they perhaps don’t have that much Happy, but neither do they have much Depths of Despair. The trouble is, they’re a bit - - well - - dull. Those who retain their drive to explore new things, to move forward, are easy to mock, and the contented mock them. “But why do you WANT to do this?” they say. “What, at your age?”
They say these things partly out of fear. They know, in their heart of hearts, that they’ve missed out, that we weren’t made to be contented, that it’s better to have the ups and downs of emotion and to help each other through the downs. After happiness, the next thing to come along is sadness, but the happiness will come back. After contentment, the next thing to come along is death.
posted by Daphne at 6:44 pm
4 Comments:
Now don't get me started, Daphne.
Yes, this is red-rag-to-a-Coombes material! But a fantastic explanation of why it is we all keep picking up our surfboards and heading back out to the roaring peaks and crashing troughs of the emotional maelstrom.
Collocation.
I want to poke Emily with a spoon for making me open a dictionary. And for still being up that late on the eve of a school day!
I always want to throw sharp or heavy objects at people who trot out the cliche 'Happiness is getting what you want; contentment is wanting what you have'.
Or maybe we just have a faulty 40+ gene, that makes us paint the lounge green instead.
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