When I entered elementary school right after the Korean War, South Korea was a war-ridden, poverty-stricken country. Few fathers had a steady job to support their family and few mothers knew where the next meal would come from. The streets were full of beggars, lepers and veterans who had lost their arms and legs during the war. Since the government was not able to compensate the wounded veterans, they had no choice but to become panhandlers.     

The whole landscape of Korea was bleak and desolate at that time. The mountains were bare because people had felled the trees to use the wood for cooking and heating. In mountain caves, I saw huge piles of bones and skeletons of civilians massacred during the war. Everything was black-and-white; nothing fancy or colorful existed on the Korean Peninsula in the 1950s. North Korea was four times richer than South Korea. In the destitute post-war Korean society, we had every reason to be unhappy.

Yet we were happy in our own way. Due to the shortage of electricity, power was cut at 8 p.m. so we had to light a lamp or a candle. Under the dim light, we gathered to listen to grandma’s stories that led us to an enchanted world of fantasy and imagination. Although we had neither TV nor computers, we were still happy. The rich, who could pay more for the special customer service plan, did not need to light lamps until 10 p.m. Yet we did not condemn them as privileged capitalist pigs, as we do today. At that time, we were wise enough not to compare ourselves with the few affluent people there were.

One day, I came across “The Blue Bird” by Belgian author Maurice Maeterlinck. It was an account of Mytyl and her brother Tyltyl who set out on a journey to find the magical Blue Bird of Happiness. But they could not find it anywhere. Later, with the help of a fairy, they realized that the blue bird of happiness had been at their home all the while. Not knowing that happiness was right at home in plain sight, the siblings wandered far and wide to find it, but to no avail. “The Blue Bird” came as a revelation to me, an elementary schoolboy living in a miserable, barren environment.

Ever since, I have tried to find happiness around me, at home and at work. Indeed, all through my life, I did not go far to find happiness. As I look back upon my past life, I was pleased to have a happy family, bright students to teach to, and numerous books to read. I was happy when I watched my favorite movies at home. I was happy to spend the best years of my life with my wonderful colleagues. And I was happy to be born in South Korea, not in North Korea. 

When I found someone who was far better than me, I did not feel jealous of him nor did I slander him. Instead, I admired him and tried to emulate him. When I encountered someone who was far richer than me, I neither criticized nor resented him. Rather, I was proud of being a poor scholar. When I met someone who had an influential father, I never whined, “Only if I had an influential father, I, too, could be like you.” Instead, I thought, “Even if my father is not a celebrity, I think I will become one myself.” It was no wonder that I was the happiest soul on earth.

Recently, a friend of mine told me a joke that went like this. In your 60s, you are a happy man if you still have a job. In your 70s, you are a happy soul if you still have friends who call you from time to time. In your 80s, you are a happy man if you have a wife who prepares breakfast for you every morning. In your 90s, you are a happy man if you can still breathe when you wake up in the morning. I found a valuable lesson in the underlying sarcasm of the joke: find happiness and be grateful in your everyday life.

Young people, too, are happy if they have caring parents, good buddies and a charming boyfriend or girlfriend. Indeed, all the things that make you happy can be found around you. They exist in plain sight, but we are often blind to them. According to the World Happiness Report, South Korea ranks 32nd out of 34 OECD nations and 118th out of 143 countries in the measurement of happiness. It is regrettable that Koreans feel unhappy even though they live in an affluent society. We should not compare ourselves with others; it will only make us unhappy and miserable. We do not have to go far to find happiness. Happiness is right beside us.

By Kim Seong-kon

Kim Seong-kon is a professor emeritus of English at Seoul National University and the president of the Literature Translation Institute of Korea. — Ed.