In the vast spectrum of things to fear in this chaotic world that still holds such endless beauty, reason has a plethora of roles ranging from prevalent to nearly absent. The presence of rationale is at best an affectation in the clutches of anxiety, and usually remains largely irrelevant. There are distinctive purposes in the nature of fear, yet maybe the word is thrown around too much. It is not surprising when one stumbles upon one of the many instances in which language is largely inadequate. But that is neither here nor there. The point is, fear serves a purpose. But the variety that has come to plague all of us monkeys with inflated egos makes one wonder if this primal instinct that initially functions to prevent one from entering dangerous situations has been thoroughly distorted by the largely unnatural ways in which we conduct our lives, if you can really call it living.
So fear. Yeah, it’s a bitch. It consumes the mind and renders the super computer between our ears mostly useless. But when it’s at least tangible, you can deal with it to some extent. For example, you walk into a room with grizzly bear that seems a bit peckish, yeah, we get that. Simple. Poisonous snake, yep, elicits fear. A mushroom cloud followed by a shock-wave, uh-huh, pissing ones pants will inevitably ensue. But there’s a dark and cold layer of fear that can exist in the worlds we seem to fabricate quite regularly. Our own little existences derived from constructs that follow our own personal laws of the universe. After-all, we are exceptionally self-centered. So it makes sense that one can come to fear or at the very least dread, and i know, word choice, but stick with me, so it makes sense that one can fear something completely abstract or poses no physical threat to self. This is where it gets delightfully messy and nonsensical.
Out of all these wonderfully arbitrary things to dread, one might ask why I am interested in the fear of happiness. First you need to decide on what range of interpretations to keep in mind as to the nature of happiness. And what is a common trait of most sources of anxiety? The unknown or unfamiliar. If it is something seemingly uncommon, then you can kind of see what I mean when I say the fear of happiness. Again, word choice, so maybe anxiety is more fitting. Most people will likely think it stupid to be apprehensive of the one thing we all seem to strive for, but simply because it seems the general goal people have in mind when it comes to living doesn’t save it from the potential of having that trait of unfamiliarity. Even more, if the potential scarcity is added to an instance of brevity, then we have a moment in which we can think that we are worse off than we were before we were happy. Thus the apprehension of future instances.
As long as we don’t think of it as malevolence of potential happiness, then we can kind of see the reasoning behind it. It is not hatred that is driven by fear-mongering. It is caution kept at a safe distance and heavily scrutinized. It isn’t dread. It’s remembering the agony that crashed down on our blissful little moment of joy. Even if it’s not so far as dreading happiness, suspicion is more than enough to present a problem. Either way, the real issue is how much these sentiments toward possible happiness can impede the actual experience. Or even prevent us from ever having them. Sometimes we just need to let ourselves be happy and not brace for the potentially destructive and messy end. Just stop reading in to everything so much and enjoy what may already be scarce and brief. I mean, if the thought of happiness already elicits these responses, then it likely doesn’t happen very often. Enjoy it. Revel in it. Be that moment, because the sooner we allow ourselves to simply experience what is happening, the sooner we can truly reflect on it. To not just see it as the tragic end, but the entire journey.