not so bad after all

I was driving through L.A. one night.

I didn’t have a destination in mind; it was one of those screamingly silent nights when the sun sets and your introspection takes you down a winding path to a melancholy place. Something inside me was aching for clarity, peace, contentment, stimulation—I don’t know what, exactly, but I felt antsy and sad, and my intuition told me to get in my car and go.

So I did.

I pulled out of my Santa Monica driveway and turned onto the 10, the lull of quiet holiday radio music filling the inside of the car as I drove by minivans, Audis, Range Rovers, pickup trucks, Hondas, and Lambos, glimpsing slivers of lives as I passed. I saw kids laughing in the backseat, couples arguing, businessmen talking on the phone—everyone with some place to go.

And there I was, heading everywhere and nowhere alongside the rest of them—driving 60 mph, car lights twinkling all around—the neighborhoods, restaurants, hotels, billboards, and iconic venues that make up this sprawling city flashing by in a constant, blurry stream.

My intuition told me to turn up the radio. As life would have it, the host had just started talking about the upcoming Christmas season. “When people are asked what they would wish for if they could have anything they wanted, what most people say, regardless of age, race, or income, is the same,” he said.

“They want to be happier.”

That hit me. I wasn’t expecting such a heartbreakingly simple and human answer. I was expecting to hear that people wanted to win the lottery and get their dream jobs. Or write a bestselling novel. Or travel. You know, experiences that we typically equate with “dreams coming true.”

But to be happier? I could have cried, and I did, and then I got to mulling over why that truth felt so impactful. To think that all the people we pass by during our daily lives—from struggling musicians and wealthy tech guys to publicists, waiters, young moms, CEOs, and everyone in between—to think that all anyone still wants is to be happy?

There’s a profound lesson in there.

I have a tendency to look at everyone around me and think that they made it, you know? That everyone knows something I don’t and I’m a few steps behind. It’s that egocentric compulsion that sees the world through a muddy glass, where whatever you’re dealing with at that time makes everyone else look like they’ve got it all figured out. You go through the world focused on your problem du jour and subconsciously see everything through that lens.

In debt? Well, look at all these people in the grocery line just buying their food, no worries. (Even though you, too, are waiting in line to check out.) Unemployed? Ugh, Michelle’s complaining and stressed out about her job, but at least she has one. (Remember when you had a job and your friend was on the hunt?) Lonely? Just look at all these people hanging out together, laughing over dinner and drinks. (Don’t you laugh over dinner and drinks sometimes, too?)

When Oprah was filming the finale of her 25-year hit show, she said something that reminded me how, at the end of the day, we ultimately want the same thing.

She said, “I’ve talked to nearly 30,000 people on this show, and all 30,000 had one thing in common: They all wanted validation. If I could reach through this television and sit on your sofa or sit on a stool in your kitchen right now, I would tell you that every single person you will ever meet shares that common desire. They want to know: ‘Do you see me? Do you hear me? Does what I say mean anything to you?‘“

“Understanding that one principle—that everybody wants to be heard—has allowed me to hold the microphone for you all these years with the least amount of judgment… It has worked for this platform, and I guarantee you it will work for yours. Try it with your children, your husband, your wife, your boss, your friends. Validate them. ‘I see you. I hear you. And what you say matters to me.‘”

I think that night, in the midst of my ceaseless, harsh, mean inner critic, those words were like an elixir, reminding me of a truth I’d once known, but had forgotten. What I was feeling was a sense of separation, from the world and from myself. And what I was aching for? It wasn’t clarity, peace, contentment or stimulation—it was a sense of wholeness.

My inner critic—we all have one—had been nagging me throughout the day, telling me I needed to find direction, to make something of myself, to prove and to go and to do and to be and to achieve. Everyone is doing this. Everyone is achieving that. Everyone is doing everything you should be doing, living how you should be living—being who you should be. I am still lost. Everyone else has been found.

During that car ride, I finally realized: Wait. Everyone feels this way sometimes, or at least their own version of it. Because if what my inner critic was telling me was right, that everyone else has it together—then there’s no way the host would have said that on the radio. No way happiness would be what everyone wishes for—because they’d all have it, right? Along with perfect credit scores and wonderful families and healthy savings accounts?

No. Way.

As I turned onto Sunset Boulevard, marveling at the buzz and electricity and history contained on that single strip—and how damn grateful I was to be seeing it all—I let my mind wander. Hmm. If I had three genie wishes, I don’t know if being happier would be one of them. I mean, I’m pretty happy right now. I remember back in North Carolina closing my eyes and telling myself, “One day, when you open them, there’s gonna be palm trees and mountains and traffic and a blue ass sky.”  I closed my eyes at the stoplight and opened them. No blue skies, but damn—there’s Chateau Marmont, there’s the Sunset sign, there’s the seedy laundromats you dreamed about driving by one day. That day is now. That moment is happening!”

And then I got to thinking some more. You can become happier all the time. Every minute of every day. It doesn’t have to be hard. Happiness is found in small moments—and only in small moments. It’s about being present with each one and taking the time to notice and savor the experience.  

Sure, I should probably have a savings strategy, and I could definitely use a credit card, but I’m pretty good at finding and being with my slices of happiness. And I’m grateful for that, because it’s something I intentionally and consciously cultivated over time—minute by minute, hour by hour, and day by day.

I did not always have this ability. I used to think that happiness was found in expensive, fancy things and luxurious, exotic trips. I used to think happiness was found in tons of Instagram likes and the cutest pictures. I used to think happiness was found in other people’s approval.

Now, I know that happiness isn’t something that can be controlled, strategized, or purchased. It’s something that you allow. And you can find it all the time in the simplest moments.

Focus on the moments because a whole bunch of moments over a long time is a life. To become happier, be in the moment—not behind or ahead of it. The moment is where the magic happens. And if you allow a string of good moments, one after the other, you’ll look back on a happy life.

Here are some of the simple, everyday things that bring me happiness:

• Waking up before the rest of the world to do things like drink coffee and meditate and take care of my skin so that by 8 am I feel accomplished before the day has even started

• Breaking open a new coffee creamer in the quiet of the morning—when I’m not happy or sad but a sort of hazy morning calm. No one died, everyone is either sleeping or just waking up, work hasn’t started—it’s just me and my thoughts

• Having a bad day then talking to a friend and losing myself in the conversation and laughter as the world keeps on turning

• Tuning out the world with Beats, candles, my Himalayan salt lamp, and my diffuser, and typing away

• Opening a new bag of Hot Cheetos; no further explanation necessary

• Listening to oldies while driving through the city—this applies to foggy mornings, sunny afternoons, and humming nights

• Being in the middle of a good book and getting excited because there’s still so much left; likewise, being in the middle of watching an episode of something great and realizing you still have 30 minutes left to go

• Holding a warm beverage in a cold hand

• Christmas decorations + Michael Bublé

• Driving through winding Malibu canyons late afternoon with the windows down

• Getting lost in any Bradley Cooper movie (or really, just watching Bradley Cooper in general)

• A clean, warm comforter straight from the dryer

• Having one of those rare, fleeting moments of pure love and perspective when everything feels just right

Sometimes these moments find me, but other times I seek them out (like when I light candles and tune the world out). But all of these moments happen almost effortlessly during the daily act of living. You just have to be there to experience them. .

As I turned back into my driveway an hour later, I felt different than I did when I’d left. It seems I’m not so different from all the people I pass during the day, just like I’m not so different than someone halfway around the world.

Oprah was right: When all is said and done—when the titles and salaries and resumes and status symbols are stripped away—we are one and the same. Whether you’re the Dalai Lama, a struggling single parent, a business tycoon, or another person working to pay her bills, you’re just like me, and I’m just like you.

At least, deep down at our core, we’re the same—but isn’t that where it matters most?

The beauty, the clothes, the jobs, the Instagram pictures, the billboards, the hair, the fame, the influence… It will all go one day. This life, this existence, is so ephemeral, just like the happiest of moments. It’s ashes to ashes, and all we can hope for is a lovely time in between.

That night, I realized that when I feel separated, I’m more connected than ever.

Maybe I’m not doing so bad after all. In fact, maybe everything is just fine.

Perfect, even.

Love and light,

Courtney