Like many people in their 20s, I was sitting with a friend, having coffee, chatting about existential topics, and questioning our purpose in life. Between coffee and dessert, we found a card game designed to help people get to know each other better, and one of the questions was: What do you consider happiness to be?



In my opinion, this isn't something people often ask themselves. We tend to search for happiness with such desperation, but how are we going to find it if we don't know where to look? We don't have a compass to point us in the right direction, nor a map to show us its location.



It's curious how we spend our lives chasing something without knowing what it means to us. This is why we have no alternative but to be introspective and truly ask ourselves, "What do I consider happiness to be?" Because naturally, being such unique and diverse beings, we're going to differ in this answer. I'm no one to tell you how to be happy, but I can talk about something that I believe helped me.



The little pleasures of life



Enjoying the little things is an easy concept to understand, but a bit difficult to put into practice. Although, for a brief moment, I thought I had invented a new philosophical doctrine, five minutes of searching were enough to make me realize that I was a considerable number of years too late, and the Greek philosopher Epicurus beat me to it.



His position (Epicureanism) argues that happiness is achieved by satisfying the pleasures we truly need; the simple and natural ones, such as good conversation, tranquility, and the satisfaction of our physical needs, avoiding pain or discomfort as much as possible. Of course, he also recognizes that, sometimes, it is necessary to reject pleasures that may cause us suffering in the long run, or conversely, to accept pain that will bring us pleasure in the future.



For Epicurus, happiness was not about having more and more, but about learning to value and find peace in what we already have.



Having a good conversation, finding a coin on the street, seeing a beautiful landscape, seeing a clear sky, greeting a cat on the street, receiving a compliment on an accessory you're wearing, thinking you didn't have enough credit for the subway but discovering you had just enough for a fare, meeting up with relatives you haven't seen in a while, catching an empty bus, having coffee with friends, laughing until you cry, singing, dancing, being alive.



These are all examples of everyday situations that, if they happened to you, you probably wouldn't pay attention to, but it's precisely these things that resonate the most when they're gone. When you can no longer have coffee with that friend. When you can no longer see that relative. We become so accustomed to these moments that we stop seeing their value.



Small is not synonymous with insignificant.



Why we struggle to see the small things when everything seems bigger



Every time we check social media, we're exposed to the lives of millions of people, to information that wasn't previously available to us. One of the most common problems in our generation is comparison; before, we compared ourselves to former classmates, distant relatives. Now, we compare ourselves to everyone who pops up in our feed.



We see big purchases, houses, luxury cars, clothing hauls, skincare hauls, extravagant trips, how to make more money, how to be more successful, how to have more and more and more… Of course, the content we consume is meticulously curated to highlight extraordinary moments.



How am I supposed to enjoy my promotion at work when I see that my favorite influencer just bought another house?



My small achievement, compared to this massive accomplishment, sounds insignificant; which it isn't, but when I compare myself, that's what it seems. Small goals are overshadowed by the illusion of what we see on social media.



The speed of our existence makes it difficult to stop.



We live in a saturated world, constantly bombarded with information from all sides, and we've adapted to this new reality once again. These days, it's increasingly difficult to stop and observe in detail what's happening around us. For example, imagine watching TikToks and actually pausing on each one, observing the background image, the unfolding scene, the elements, the message being communicated.



It's not realistic. The content we consume isn't designed to be dissected; it works precisely because we don't stop to analyze it, and once we move on to the next one, we've already forgotten what we saw. Translating this to the real world, if we aren't capable of observing and analyzing small details, how are we supposed to enjoy them?



I think we've confused paying attention with simply looking.



Okay, but you haven't told me why enjoying the little things has helped you be happier.



I'd like us to go back to the café. We're sitting, enjoying each other's company, eating a delicious dessert, when we decide to pick up the question cards again, and the card appears once again: What do you consider happiness to be?



Ugh, a bit of a tricky question. It's not something I think about often, which is funny, because I think we all long to be happy. Lately, I've adopted a "philosophy" that has helped me a lot, and that's enjoying the little things or moments.



In the past, whenever I had a good day, or simply spent quality time with the people I care about, I'd say out loud, "Today is the best day of my life." That could mean, I bought ice cream or had an interesting conversation, but it was never anything big, like: I graduated from school or bought a car.



Because, for me, it wasn't necessary for something magnificent to happen; I simply wanted to acknowledge how happy the moment had made me, I wanted the other person to know how happy they made me. I truly felt it was one of the best days of my life, and I felt the need to express it; I gave that value to something simple.



Although unconsciously, I've always had the virtue of genuinely appreciating everyday moments, mundane things of daily life that gladden my soul; today I do it consciously, because I attribute value to them, not because someone else says they're important. Every day I choose to find reasons to smile, even if I have to search for them in the air, but I find them, because there truly is beauty in the mundane.



I believe that having gone through a loss inevitably changes your perspective, and that's what opened my eyes, what forced me to understand that what I miss most isn't something extraordinary: it's sitting with that person, hugging that person, being in the same place as that person.



And that's when you realize that everything else is just decoration: you lose a cell phone, you buy another one, your favorite shirt gets ruined, you find another one you like. But sitting with someone you love watching the sunset, what can replace that?



Lying on the grass watching the sky, the 5 p.m. breeze, the sound of the parakeets in the trees, walking and feeling the nice weather, not being able to control my laughter, talking to a kind older lady, receiving an unexpected gift, eating something delicious, getting praised at work, passing a class, smelling the flowers, petting my pets, hugging my mom, reading under a tree, finding a parking spot, learning something new, eating chocolate, finding something I lost, a bird resting near me, arriving at my destination without traffic, leaving work early, dancing with my friends, singing in the shower, telling my family and friends that I love them.



Once you start seeing beauty in ordinary things, it's so easy to find reasons to smile. Maybe all this time I never needed a compass to find happiness, or a treasure map; I just had to stop and see what was always right in front of me.