“Happiness is available. Please help yourself to it.”
Thich Nhat Hanh, the renowned Vietnamese Zen master, peace activist, and spiritual leader
In the heart of Chiang Mai, our walks from our favourite restaurant unfold like solving a daily puzzle. This ancient city wasn’t drawn on an architect’s board – it grew organically, shaped by centuries of human needs and available resources. The maze-like layout features small alleys that end without warning, and sidewalks appear and disappear, seemingly randomly. Sometimes, we find ourselves stepping onto a four-lane highway just to continue our journey. Yet somehow, it all works harmoniously because expectations are clear: drivers remain vigilant, knowing pedestrians might share their space and us walkers look right, left, multiple times before we make any moves. And you learn quickly that sudden moves are just a bad idea in general, whether you’re in a car, on a motorbike or strolling.
Along our now-familiar route, there’s a woman we often pass. She lives in a makeshift structure in one of these alleyways, always alone, perpetually focused on sorting through bottles and cans for recycling. When our eyes occasionally meet, she doesn’t offer a smile, quickly returning to her work.
I contemplate our parallel lives – two women, likely of similar age, yet walking such different paths. Her home, exposed to weather and passersby, probably wasn’t a choice she dreamed of making. Being who I am, I’m naturally curious about her life – what dreams she harbors and where her happiness may reside. Is she accessing the happiness available to her?
Recently, Håkan and I have been consumed by our search for happiness, or more precisely, new accommodations. What we thought would be a peaceful three-month stay in a cool sanctuary complete with a salt-water swimming pool turned out to be located directly under the flight path of Chiang Mai’s International Airport. The modern house, beautiful but poorly insulated, conducts every aircraft taking off or landing rumbling straight into our sleep, along with our neighbors’ daily and nightly activities. This discovery has launched us into an intensive hunt for our next home.
Our criteria grew increasingly specific: quiet location, walkable neighbourhood, spacious enough for comfortable remote work, proximity to cafes and restaurants, the perfect bed – and the list goes on. But amid this frantic search, I had an epiphany about the complexity we bring to our pursuit of happiness. How many conditions we put on our happiness. Looking at thousands of positive reviews from travellers who’ve stayed in all sorts of places, a profound realization landed noisily in front of me.
There exists an invisible line between those who have the financial means to shape their environment to match their desires and those who must adapt their expectations to their surroundings due to limited resources. The important truth is this: having more money to customize one’s environment doesn’t necessarily guarantee greater happiness. The key, like so many things in life, lies in finding balance – appreciating what we have and that we may also have the privilege to make changes while cultivating the wisdom to adapt ourselves, regardless of our economic circumstances.
Happiness is indeed available, as countless satisfied travellers remind us. The trick is learning to access it both willingly and consciously, whether we find ourselves in a perfect sanctuary or an imperfect one.
Perhaps true contentment comes from understanding both sides of this equation: knowing when to use our resources to improve our situation and when to practice the art of acceptance.
