Happiness makes me sad. I'm not referring to genuine happiness, but rather to the phenomenon of commercial happiness that is marketed from every conceivable media niche. Happiness is big business, retail therapy, a temporary fix, an emotional drug. "You want to be happy?"; they ask. "Then buy this car, wear those clothes, go on vacation, give to my charity, save our planet, lose that weight."; Happiness has become a burden, a dizzying series of magical resolutions and commercial panaceas. In its shadow lurks a recipe for stress and depression.

What is happiness anyway? In our rather young secular culture, we have abandoned much of the traditional wisdom of the past but have not yet developed the stories that give meaning to our lives. It takes time to mature; it is a generational process of shared experiences that must patiently ferment. Most of us are satisfied with a conditional happiness that is dependent on small victories and fortuitous coincidences. But there must be a deeper sense of happiness.

Does happiness come with meaning, with a coherent explanation for everything? Is it something to be achieved, or felt, or is it a state of being? There are many kinds of happiness. There is temporary happiness like falling in love or winning gold; a medium contentment that reflects a general satisfaction with life; and then there is a sense of eternal ecstasy based on cosmic metaphysics. Members of various world religions can mean vastly different things when speaking about the paths to happiness: the path to salvation for one leads to hell for another.

I wonder why the human psyche is so addicted to happiness. What evolutionary function does it perform? When we are feeling down we look to artificial stimulants, hedonistic pleasures as well as other psychological addictions to make us happy. That generally seems to be tolerable behaviour, a reprieve from the necessary laws that bind society, but often the repercussions are filled with regret.

Until that day when world peace permeates the Earth, I can be happy but only for a moment; I can laugh, but not fully. My joy is anchored in your suffering, and until we can be happy together, I would rather cry with you than be happy by myself.

[Vancouver Sun contribution, 2012, for a series conceived and edited by Doug Todd]