When I’m unhappy, I feel like I’m doing life wrong. I’d rather be happy. But is happiness the point of life, or is there more to it? If I pursue happiness, mine first then for those around me, is that selfish? But if there’s a bigger purpose, then what about people with Alzheimer’s or dementia who can’t recall recent experiences or make plans?
Thank you for your comments about dementia. It scares me, but I was wondering if happiness is worthwhile, even if the person that I spark happiness in won’t ever remember it. I think of both elderly people and small children, because my kids no longer remember some of our early vacations, which are some of my happiest memories. And I conclude that making people happy is valuable in itself and never wasted, even if they will forget. Maybe because that’s how I conceive of my own personality or being: I make people feel good and that makes me who I am. But maybe that says more about me or my society than about life in general.