Happiness is not just a state of mind

The weekend fleeted past with such astonishing quickness, I have only a vague memory of what I accomplished in the past two days. I drove the man to work on Saturday afternoon, then proceeded to the office myself. Stayed unexpectedly till 7 and I had to peel myself off the chair and leave because that was no freakin' way to spend a much-cherished Saturday afternoon. Had a coffee at the joint, then picked up the man, had a quickie dinner, then hit my pillows almost immediately once I got home. I had no idea working on a Saturday can be so exhausting.

On Sunday evening, the man played his first league game in, lemme see... 4 years? To me, that's like coming out of an unofficial semi-retirement, and I really admire his commitment to come back to the game, and to want to excel, at our age. By international professional standards, 28 is not exactly a very old age to draw amazement. Jordan first retired at age 30, dabbled in pro baseball for a couple of years before coming out of retirement at age 32 (wow), re-retired at 36, amazingly returned to the game for the last time at age 38 (big WOW) before finishing his career for real at age 40. When you look at that kind of career history, you're impressed and inspired with nothing less than pure passion for the game. At 28? You're still probably having the best time of your career in a pro game.

But for us, in a sad country where livelihood is sustainable only with a "stable corporate job" and will never be satisfied with a pro-sports career, to still be playing competitively at age 28 is already a big achievement that should draw applause and respect (not many folks here can juggle work, training, work, family, social life, work, games and still stand alive). To return to the competitive game after a 4-year hiatus with an even greater hunger to win, manifests a sense of passion as strong as that of our Hero of the Century.

My man is so committed to his game, he dreams of basketball (yes, not me, unfortunately). He talks basketball (not me), he daydreams of basketball moves (sigh... not me) when he's not playing, he draws inspiration from Jordan VCDs (not me) before his games, he works on his shots (er... not me) in the morning before his games. And his efforts paid off well last night. And I'm so darn proud of him.

(Miss Tan: he wants me to let you know he scored 17 last night, not 9 as you thought. So that makes it 57% of his target achieved. Not too bad, he says.)

And he's so happy. Happy that he's come back to his game the way he wanted to. And I'm happy that he's happy. Happiness is such a contagious disease, that's so easily transmitted via emotional contact with loved ones, and wave-lengths of love signals between 2 persons.

Happiness is a state of mind, so say many writers on the topic. But I beg to differ. Happiness is a result of the state of affair, as much as it is of the state of mind. It is not a mutually exclusive relationship. To believe that happiness is only a result of one's state of mind, is to encourage one to be devoid of emotions and passion. When you love someone so deeply, that person's happiness becomes intertwined with your own happiness. It's only natural that when your special one is happy, you're happy and when he/she is unhappy, you are concerned too. Your happiness becomes a function of external factors.

Writers of such non-fictional topics are usually happy folks with happy families - spouses, kids and all - and with probably things going well for them in life. They are probably not depressive, suicidal people. Well, you know this when you read the author's short biography at the beginning of every such book. Only the fiction writers lapse into depression and kill themselves.

It's horrific I notice such things.