Hitler and Stalin and Mao were often happy so let’s not kid ourselves into thinking happiness has any value as a moral standard. The suffering of innocent people makes some people happy. Theft, cheating in its many forms, all the vices really, give happiness to more people than we care to think about.
Today, on a day when I haven’t hurt another, and when I am not being sought by law enforcement for some possibility of criminal behavior, I am happy.
The good weather helps, especially the clear, sharp light.
I have the good fortune of quiet, health, friends, a good marriage, a job, my dog, birds and books, and nothing chasing me. My happiness has not come at a cost to anyone else.
This might be as close to a clear conscience as I ever get.
I’ve grown old enough to know that this happiness is a grace bestowed, an unearned gift, and might be gone in an hour.
But then 71 years is also a bounty. I am still in the world, this lovely world.
