I am invited to one of the yearly parties thrown by the investment bank that I currently consult for in downtown Toronto.
It’s a huge event, lavishly thrown, and at the end of it, a selected bunch of us are invited the next day to sail the yacht owned by the managing director of the bank. I know him well having sat on many long meetings with him and find him to be a pretty agreeable chap.
On the day of the event, we all meet at the pier where the vessel is docked. As the boat leaves the dock, we all help ourselves to the generous spread of food and drinks.
It is a fine, sunny day, and there is a nice, warm breeze blowing.
During the trip, we all take a turn at steering the boat. It is splendid sailing weather, and couldn’t have been a more perfect day.
“It’s a beautiful boat. You must love it,” one of my coworkers remarks with admiration.
“Yeah, it’s nice,” the director says, as he shrugs with indifference,
“But I really want to get a 100-footer someday”, he says with a confident laugh looking over at the sunset.
The day before, Jaime, the office assistant, had walked into work after her lunch break with a huge smile on her face.
“What’s up, Jaime?” I prodded teasingly.
“My boyfriend got me a new dress. I just love this color, Z,” Jaime says, holding out the sides of her dress proudly.
She then proceeds to throw her arms up and gives me a hug while still holding on to that smile.
Jaime wore that dress and the smile for the rest of the day and I still have one just thinking about her happiness.
Two simple incidents in two days and I find myself learning a small lesson on life.
Maybe one should accept the fact that happiness in life is not something I can find externally.
It is not determined by how much money I have or who I am.
It cannot be found on a yacht . . . Equally not in bigger yachts, in self-help seminars, sitting cross-legged on California mountaintops, in newly minted cars, or in Ivy league educations.
Happiness — It seems like is a state of craziness that just bubbles up from within. Like an oil gusher that refuses that stay underground.
Whether I am happy or unhappy depends on me and the lenses through which I see the world.
It’s not a difficult thing to rationalize this. Implementing this is a completely different endeavor.
I stand there on the upper deck of that 40-footer running through Lake Ontario, soaking in the sun, surrounded by millionaires, drinking champagne from artistic flute glasses, wondering who I was.
And who I have lately become…
