In continuation with my posts about happiness and hobbies, you might be wondering who am I to be giving such high-handed advice? Truth is, I’m no one special. I’m a Schmoe. An ordinary person like you.
If you saw me on the street, you probably wouldn’t look twice. I’m not especially good looking. I’m not rich. Not a rocket scientist, or a tech mogul. I don’t lead an international company or sit on the board of any organization. Don’t have a string of letters after my name or a wall covered with prestigious awards. I haven’t written bestselling books or given TED talks that went viral. I don’t have a sixpack and my face has never graced the cover of a magazine. By conventional measures of success and influence, I’m thoroughly ordinary.
However, I have had a pretty incredible life so far. I’ve been around the world twice, experiencing cultures and perspectives that have expanded my understanding of what it means to be human. I lived in the back of a car in California, learning firsthand about resilience and the impermanence of material comfort. I cycled from Victoria B.C. to Montreal, pushing my physical limits and discovering the meditative quality of long-distance endurance challenges. Each pedal stroke across the vast Canadian landscape taught me something about persistence and the power of incremental progress toward seemingly impossible goals.
The spectrum of my material wealth has been just as diverse. I have owned a fancy 5,000 square foot heritage house with ornate moldings and large rooms that echoed with affluence. I’ve experienced the thrill of sliding behind the wheel of a shiny BMW, feeling the purr of German engineering beneath my hands. But I have also been so poor I ate canned tuna fish and rice for a week, waiting for the next paycheck before I could buy something else. I have known both abundance and scarcity, luxury and simplicity, and discovered valuable truths in each state.
My professional life has been equally diverse. I have worked for Canada’s national broadcaster, where I witnessed how stories shape our collective understanding. I worked for a national bank, examining the relationship between money and human behavior in an increasingly digital world. I’ve worked for an international consultancy, where I helped organizations navigate complex challenges. I’ve also worked as a gold miner, a parasail instructor, a tree planter, a waiter, and a college professor. Each of these experiences teaching me something new about myself and the world in general.
Most importantly, what I am… is happy.
Most of the time, I feel genuinely content with my life—not perpetually ecstatic or immune to difficulties, but grateful for each day I live. I didn’t stumble into this happiness or inherit it from lucky circumstances; I built it intentionally through deliberate choices and hard-won wisdom. My happiness embraces life’s complexity instead of denying it. It seeks beauty in ordinary moments and discovers meaning in challenges.
I have faced my share of challenges and learning experiences—several accidents and illnesses, some even life-threatening. A bus once hit me while I was cycling, slamming me onto unforgiving pavement and leaving me with injuries that required multiple surgeries to repair. I’ve heard doctors deliver those world-altering words twice, diagnosing me with two different types of cancer. Each health crisis forced me to stare mortality in the face and reevaluate what truly matters when time suddenly feels finite. Like anyone who has lived long enough, I’ve endured loss and regret—burying loved ones, watching relationships dissolve, and making decisions I later wished I could undo.
These experiences have transformed me. Each challenge became a teacher, offering lessons I couldn’t have learned any other way. There is a piece of Sanskrit wisdom which translates to something like, “There are no mistakes, only lessons. Lessons will be repeated until they are learned.” And God-damn some of those lessons were hard.
“There are no mistakes, only lessons. Lessons will be repeated until they are learned.” ~ Sanskrit Wisdom
The accidents taught me about physical fragility but also about the remarkable resilience of the human body and spirit. The cancer diagnoses showed me the preciousness of ordinary days and the importance of living deliberately rather than postponing joy. The financial struggles revealed how little I actually needed to be content and freed me from the constant pursuit of more. Even my regrets have value, serving as guideposts for future choices and reminders of my evolving values.
While I may not have any extraordinary talents or achievements that set me apart from the crowd, I have learned what it takes to get life on track and live a fulfilling and meaningful existence. Through trial and error, reflection and adjustment, I’ve discovered principles and practices that reliably cultivate well-being. Some came through formal study and reading the wisdom of others, but most emerged from lived experience—from stumbling, falling, and finding the courage to rise again with new understanding.
I believe that we all have the power to make positive changes in our lives, regardless of current circumstances or past setbacks. This capacity for transformation isn’t reserved for the exceptional few with unusual advantages or abilities—it’s our birthright as conscious beings capable of choice and adaptation. The path to happiness isn’t about mimicking someone else’s journey or achieving particular external markers. It’s about aligning your life with your deepest values, nurturing meaningful connections, finding purpose in daily activities, and practicing presence amid life’s inevitable fluctuations. What life experiences taught you the most?
I hope to share some of the things that have worked for me in the hopes that they might be helpful to you as well. Not as prescriptions to follow blindly, but as possibilities to consider and adapt to your unique situation. My experiences—from mountain peaks to hospital beds, from abundance to scarcity—have taught me that happiness isn’t a destination we reach once and forever. It’s a practice we return to daily, a quality we cultivate through intentional living. It is a perspective that transforms ordinary existence into something quietly extraordinary. And that practice is available to anyone willing to begin, regardless of where you find yourself today.