When the Pursuit of Happiness Becomes the Flight from Pain

"The American republic was founded for a people who increasingly do not exist." Oh boy, have I been pondering that very thing of late. Am I and those like me a dying breed? Will America die with us? Don't follow me down this line of thought. It's terrifying.

For me, "the pursuit of happiness" is a journey, not a destination. It reminds me of the distinction between people who own powerboats (stinkpots) and sailors. Powerboats simply get you there. Sailboats take you on a journey. Yes, I am a sailor.

Sailors are simply a better class of people. They're part navigators, pilots, seamstresses, carpenters, mechanics, engineers, and many, many more people all wrapped up in one. Like the pioneers who built America, they are self reliant. More importantly, they take responsibility for themselves and everything they say and do. People afraid of responsibility are equally afraid of freedom. Freedom and responsibility are like two sides of the same coin.

Well, my pursuit is nearing its end. Did I achieve happiness? Actually, no. The journey itself has been happy, even when times were tough. Interestingly, the memories are all happy, especially those that were tough. Surviving them is a greater reward than coasting through the easy ones.

[Note: No, that's not me in the picture. Just illustrative of my point]