Are you happy?

Seems like a simple question, but in reality, i think it is sort of haunting.  I remember while reading The Zahir, by Paulo Coelho, (a book I highly recommend) that it occured to me, or even said in the book, that asking people if they are happy can be one of the meanest things you can do.  Because let's face it, most people aren't happy, even though we tell ourselves and we certainly tell others that we are. 

But the reason the question is so cruel is that if we get to a point where we see our unhappiness, then we are forced to change something, fix it, or deal with it in someway, which most people won't do, and if we don't address it, then we are even more miserable living with the fact that we are now acutely aware of our unhappiness.

The whole self-help movement (which i have single-handedly supported) along with marketing and pop culture all leads us to believe we should be happy, and that the happiness we desire is close by.

And what about the guilt?  Does anyone else ever feel awful about their unhappiness, feeling that they really do have it all, everything they could ever need or want, so all the more there is no excuse to be unhappy, and so comes the denial of unhappiness or the guilt and depression.

And what about those blissful moments, i do have those too, where happy doesn't even seem like an appropriate word to explain the state of joy that i feel.  Maybe there is an expected eternal aspect to happiness that i resist.  Happiness seems to bring to mnd a state of continual joy, and that is what i think is unrealistic.

I wonder how often should we laugh, and dance and sing and jump about.  I think more than we do....

So what do we do?  What do we do when we look into the eyes of another, and beneath the polite "I'm fine" we see pain, sadness, etc.  What do we do when we acknowledge our own sadness, ways we feel trapped, stuck, without option.  Do we dive deeper into our despair?  Do we challenge others on their grief?  Or do we walk around in a haze, pretending the everything in its bland melchonaly state is simply "as good as it gets."

I wish for myself and all, truth, honesty, and authentic expression of all happiness and unhappiness.  As Rainier Maria Rilke wrote, "Let everything happen to you, beauty and terror, no feeling is final."