Why Do They Have It So Good?

 

(image by DALL·E - Open AI)

As we struggle through life's challenges, we sometimes look at others with a feeling of envy. That envy can turn to anger. Why do all the bad things happen to me? Why do other people have such good lives? What did I do to deserve this? But, isn't this anger based on a false assumption: that others aren't struggling too?

Even the world's richest man appears unable to buy happiness. As we watch online tirades, arguments with politicians, and manic public displays, we realize that wealth is no guarantee of peace and tranquility. It certainly does not guarantee happiness. 

Not everyone has to worry about where their next meal will come from. But we all crawl through a life of thistle and thorn, relentlessly approaching the same final destination. Realizing that our fellow humans also struggle helps us see them in a different light. Perhaps our envy can turn to empathy. Perhaps our anger can turn to compassion. 

Will this ease our pain? Maybe not. But if we treat each other better, might that be enough?

What's in a name?

 

In the wise city of Christchurch, there is a library named Tūranga. A simple but elegant name, with a connection to local heritage. It means "stopping place". Recently, I encountered a lively debate about the building's name. Some people argued that the word "library" must be included so that everyone would know the building's function. Others argued that the name is fine as it is. In my usual manner, I joined the conversation and offered these words:
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Tell me, friends: when you enter a building filled with books, with people reading, learning, gathering—do you know it is a library only if the word “library” is printed on the wall?

And if a place calls itself by another name—say, Tūranga—yet offers all the treasures of a library, have you been deceived? Or have you simply encountered a name that carries history, spirit, and meaning unfamiliar to you?

I wonder: should every place declare its purpose in plain English? Must every restaurant be called “restaurant,” every museum “museum”? Is The Smithsonian not a museum because the word is missing?

Perhaps we are asking the wrong question. Not “Does it say ‘library’?” but “Does it act as one?” Not “Is the name familiar to me?” but “Am I willing to learn what it means to others?”

There are many ways to name a place. But there is only one way to close our minds—by refusing to ask.

Calm in doing less

 

image generated by DALL·E

The pressures of life can be overwhelming, and often lead to stress and anxiety. But where do these pressures come from? Could it be that we create them ourselves?

We try to squeeze so much into our days. We work hard, take on new hobbies, and feel compelled to say “yes” whenever someone asks us for help. It’s not surprising that we feel stretched and stressed. We don’t even have time to ask ourselves, “does all this activity truly make me happy?”

So, what is the solution? Could it be that by doing less, we gain more—not in quantity, but in clarity and peace? Perhaps we should focus only on what truly matters, and set the rest aside. This may help reduce pressure while also giving us space to do the important things better.

If doing less leads to happiness, why do we ignore this wisdom?