What makes me happy?

If I were Reed Hastings today, I would be comparing myself with Steve Jobs and feel defeated because my company is not as successful and my product is not as cool. If I were doing better than Jobs, I would think I am much older than the Google boys, which means I must not have done as well. Why am I never satisfied with myself? Why can’t I reach the level of comfort and contentment to be happy? Why am I always looking for more recognition and accomplishment? I tried to write a “things I like” list, it went something like this: These are a few of my favorite things: 1. Falling in love head over heels, feeling our hearts melt together 2. To be recognized for what I do best – creativity in literature and arts, or accomplishment in reaching a business goal 3. To be able to master a language, have a sensitivity and knowledge to the words Then I thought I should be more practical, and make better sense, and it went like this: 1. solitude 2. clean, well-lit, quiet place for thinking, reading, writing, knitting, being 3. snoring pug 4. Dr. Luka Kovach in ER 5. Julio Iglecias 6. hand painted wool from Ellen’s Half Pint Farm 7. enough time for sex Sure, these are things I enjoy, but what would be something that ultimately makes me happy? Something that makes me so completely, thoroughly satisfied that I’d die happy today? I don’t know. If I win the lottery today, will that make me happy? Maybe, there will still be the “one thing” missing. The “one thing” is up to me to find out.