The key is to act like a happy person would, even if you don’t feel like it.
...the subjects who reported having the happiest lives were those with strong family ties, close friendships, and rich romantic lives. The subjects who were most depressed and lonely late in life—not to mention more likely to be suffering from dementia, alcoholism, or other health problems—were the ones who had neglected their close relationships.
You will sacrifice happiness if you crowd out relationships with work, drugs, politics, or social media.
Empty consumerism and soulless government are the traditional two explanations for our modern alienation. These days, there is a brand-new one: tech. The tech revolution promised us our heart’s desires: everything you want to know at the click of a mouse; the ability to become famous to strangers; anything you want to buy, delivered to your door in days without you having to leave home. But our happiness has not increased as a result — on the contrary. Mounting evidence shows that media and technology use predict deleterious psychological and physiological outcomes, especially among young people.
The world encourages us to love things and use people. But that’s backwards. Put this on your fridge and try to live by it: Love people; use things.
Consumerocracy, bureaucracy, and technocracy promise us greater satisfaction, but don’t deliver. Consumer purchases promise to make us more attractive and entertained; the government promises protection from life’s vicissitudes; social media promises to keep us connected; but none of these provide the love and purpose that bring deep and enduring satisfaction to life.
Indeed, many have observed that socialism’s focus on who gets what is every bit as materialistic as a market-based society.
Scientific socialism—or at least, scientific public administration—reduces citizenship to a series of cold transactions with the government.
Marketers know that if they can grab hold of your brain chemistry—get you in a state of “hedonic consumption” in which your decisions are driven by pleasure more than utility—they can probably sell you something, whether you “need” it or not. But we can resist advertising’s pull on our emotions.
What this means is that anything that substitutes for close human relationships in your life is a bad trade.
Humans have a bad habit of wanting things that are terrible for us.
...fame has become a form of addiction.
...ask yourself whether you really want to base some part of your happiness on the judgment of others, including and especially strangers.
None of us, nor our children, will ever find fulfillment through the judgment of strangers.
But to seek fame per se—to attract attention to yourself as opposed to your work—is to subject yourself emotionally to that scrutiny, which will inevitably end in disaster for your self-esteem.
If I complain that government is soulless or that a politician is making me unhappy—which I personally have done many times—I am saying that I think government should have a soul or that politicians can and should bring me happiness. This is naive at best.
The key is to act like a happy person would, even if you don’t feel like it.