Lately, I often think about happiness. Maybe it’s my junior year, as I’m no longer thrilled or pumped for my new chapter of life like I was freshman year. Maybe it’s the transition from COVID-19 to slowly back to normal. Or maybe, it was my re-encounter with the world where the time slows down — Scandinavia after five years. 

After completing two and half semesters online at home, I felt burned out. Despite the pandemic, relatively few cases in Japan at the time allowed me to make the most out of the experience.  So alongside remote classes, I took on multiple internships, made new friends while living at the student dorms in Tokyo, and also made a habit of writing consistently — the constant theme being centered around productivity. My schedule was so packed that the only respite in a day was a fleeting few hours of watching K-Dramas with my family at night. 

Before this summer, my ‘happiness’ has been dictated by the degree of success in academic and professional fields. Attending a prestigious school, securing the right career opportunities, getting good grades and working hard on these kinds of achievements were what I thought would make me happy. 

Even before college, I have religiously followed this path to happiness. Having been steadfast with my belief for almost my entire life, I never thought I’d ever reconsider. That was until these past few semesters when I began to feel empty. I began to understand why my high school classmates back jokingly called me a cyborg, as I completed tasks promptly and without fail.  

This summer, however, I decided that I would break out of my old habits. And while there was immense pressure to be doing something productive (yet again), such as interning or taking courses that would be beneficial for me post-graduation, all this only intensified by the fact that I am a rising junior, I chose to fly to Scandinavia — Denmark and Sweden to be specific. 

Thanks to the declining number of cases in the area as well as the increasing vaccination rate, the program I signed up for during pre-pandemic times, which was a summer class about food and culture, with cooking and wine tasting activities, returned to the in-person setting. While a bit nervous at first, I realized that this was my chance to break free from my governing culture and reframe my perspective on life. 

A few months later, I found myself on a bench by the river in Copenhagen, Denmark, with a latte and cranberry danish pastry in my hands. It was a fine day with just the right temperature and humidity, a cool breeze stroked my cheek softly. Looking around the trees and colorful old-fashioned buildings that never grow old, and seeing the people passing by who smile at you, I felt a strange sense of content and peacefulness. 

This summer, however, I decided that I would break out of my old habits. And while there was immense pressure to be doing something productive (yet again), such as interning or taking courses that would be beneficial for me post-graduation, all this only intensified by the fact that I am a rising junior, I chose to fly to Scandinavia — Denmark and Sweden to be specific. 

This was one of the happy habits I found over the few months. Without homework, jobs or any obligations to worry about, I spent a month exploring various spots, food and culture in both of the countries. Surprisingly, though, rather than wondrous sightseeing, what I enjoyed the most there were those little and yet peaceful moments: napping on the grass in a park, watching the sunset from the window in my room, walking through the forests and sharing meals and coffee with friends who I connect with. 

These were not the grandiose, exhilarating moments — not the ones you feel when you get selected for a higher position or opening bCourses to discover you did well on your test. Rather, they are ordinary but wholesome moments that can be replicated in everyday life. 

In the so-called happiest countries in the world, contrary to my expectation, happiness people experience there is not stimulating — the exciting kind brought by success and achievement; instead, they value stability and little peacefulness found in everyday life which satisfy their rather ‘lower’ standard for everyday pleasure, much like sipping a cup of latte for hours to taking a number of espresso shots. Maybe it’s the “Lagom,” a Swedish phrase that describes the philosophy of preferring a state of moderation — not too much or little, but “just right.” Rather than going through ups and downs, continuing a moderate but peaceful routine is more valuable for Scandinavians.

Walking through the city or interacting with the locals, they are rather reserved, and I rarely encountered people raising their voices for anything, except for the soccer games. Compared to American peers at colleges, who are often willing to explain their success and hard work on the first meeting, whenever I catch up with friends from my program who live in the region, they seldom discuss their recent achievements — they almost seem indifferent on the topic — or even brag. Rather, they talk about recent updates on their houses, such as newly renovated vacation condo or sunroom, or flowers and lights that they added. But when I make compliments about their style or home, they start explaining about the behind-stories with much joy.   

Watching and listening to the locals, as well as observing changes within me, I discovered that the key to the lasting sense of happiness, or contentment, that I found on my trip this summer was sustainability.

Rather than trying to replicate costly, eventful moments, people in Scandinavia tend to put more effort into improving their ordinary living conditions, while also enjoying a few special occasions. 

For example, eating out in restaurants there is expensive and not common. But when they do eat out, they share it with people, while taking advantage of their surroundings whether it be the sun during the day or the city lights at night. All the while, they design their homes, where they spend a good amount of time, to be the coziest of places so that they can feel content continuously. By putting a unique design chair in the living room, or surrounding the front gate with flowers, they design their environment in a distinct manner that brightens their mood every day. 

The same can be said with regard to material consumption. Rather than getting every new product that attracts you on the spot, such as iPhones or the clothes of the season, I found that using what you have to the fullest and cherishing the sense of ownership of those products brings more satisfaction. 

Watching and listening to the locals, as well as observing changes within me, I discovered that the key to the lasting sense of happiness, or contentment, that I found on my trip this summer was sustainability.

As a former shopping addict, I have always had an urge to splurge on new products, especially those with catchy advertisements. This often happened to me when I was shopping for clothes; new trends quickly convinced me that I needed something that I merely wanted. Nevertheless, not only could I bring only a few clothes from home on the trip, but also how well people dressed in Denmark even on the most ordinary days made me realize that it’s not the number of variations of the clothes that you own, but rather wearing something that makes your heart fly. It’s about surrounding yourself with your favorite, not someone else’s.

In trying to use the same things for longer and selecting only the one that I fell in love with when shopping, I slowly realized that those things only have the potential to bring you instant gratification, but never long-lasting contentment. Instead of vivid-colored tank-tops and numerous skinny jeans that I blindly amassed in the United States, pastel-colored tops and flower-print skirts that I picked up after four hours of trying outs in Denmark are still my go-to outfits.

Lastly and most importantly, I found that the sense of time greatly impacts our emotional stability. I felt the most content when I had the time set aside for one activity, which would not be threatened to be shortened for the next schedule, instead of multi-tasking.  

One of the few occasions where I was irritated during my stay in Scandinavia was when I was rushed to eat for the sake of time, usually due to activities for my program. I cannot describe how upset I was when I had to order a box for the fresh raspberry pancakes and caffe latte to go in the middle of the meal to make it to the next program. Especially when I started to put the concept of ‘ slow meals into practice, in which I enjoy stories behind each meal and really taste and appreciate food using all my senses — all of which I learned in food class — I wanted to protect undisturbed time, at least for meals. Though having meals is the most ordinary thing that we do every day, enjoying the slow time during meals helps to maintain your happiness level. Or precisely because of that reason, making a consistent effort to secure the time would lead to sustainable happiness.

In this capitalist society where we are constantly compelled to compete with one another just to survive, we experience various stimuli — both negative and positive, emotional ups and downs in great magnitude. In the process, our sense starts to get numb, no longer satisfied with moderate input; instead, we need more, something greater: an extreme amount of wealth, gleaming fame and monumental success that are only brought by winning the competition. 

Always compelled to improve to increase the winning chance in the competition, I sought happiness by being ‘productive,’ all the while consuming every material I see, mistakenly seeking fulfillment in those commodities. The system turned me into a robot, controlled by mere input and output, fueled by the gasoline of hunger for more. 

Being content with moderation is harder in capitalist societies like the United States. I may be left out in the competitions, and flimsy social welfare may fail me if I choose to continue my powerless and minimal way of defiance against capitalism. 

In order to put these Scandinavian philosophies to college life in the United States, there are a couple of things you can do to maintain sustainable happiness. Separating life and work is helpful, for example, controlling the notification system on your phone or setting aside time for each activity can be integrated into your everyday habit. Taking enough time for everyday activities such as meals, hobbies and, most importantly, people — significant others, and yourself — is never a waste. And most importantly, setting aside time for those, even for a short while, can help you to keep yourself grounded. 

Thanks to these realizations I gained by spending time in less capitalistic parts of the world, I had one of the happiest summers all the while gaining a fresh perspective on life. And finally, I feel like a multifaceted human fueled by the sustainable energy of happiness. With the start of a new semester, I find myself experiencing Cal differently, so even if you can’t go out to Scandinavia or another adventure, take a second to think about what happiness means for you.