Happiness isn’t found—it’s cultivated through intention

I remember talking to a friend in Bali years ago, just after I’d started diving deeper into Buddhist philosophy. We were sitting at a quiet warung by the beach, and he said something that stuck with me: “You’re always chasing something, Lachlan. Why not just sit still for once?” He wasn’t being cruel—he was being honest. And he was right.

For years, I thought happiness was just around the corner—after the next trip, the next milestone, the next relationship breakthrough. But that moment, in its simplicity, showed me something deeper: a lot of our unhappiness comes not from lack, but from clinging. Clinging to how things should be. Clinging to who we should become. Clinging to what we think we deserve.

This article isn’t a quick-fix checklist or a set of vague affirmations. It’s a grounded, story-driven exploration of what actually makes life happier—based on psychological research, lived experience, and timeless Buddhist insight.

Let’s explore a few truths that can help you stop chasing happiness—and start living it.

Stop chasing ‘more’ and start living ‘enough’

There’s a term in psychology called the “hedonic treadmill.” It refers to our tendency to adapt quickly to new pleasures—so even when we get what we want, we soon crave the next hit. A better apartment, a higher-paying job, a more attentive partner.

But here’s the catch: that pursuit never ends. And unless we consciously step off the treadmill, we’re just running faster toward a mirage.

In my own life, I’ve found that redefining what “enough” looks like—financially, socially, emotionally—was one of the biggest turning points. Not settling, but softening. Letting go of the need to win at life, and instead asking: “What would peace look like right now?”

This doesn’t mean giving up ambition. It means noticing when ambition has crossed the line into attachment. Into needing a certain outcome to feel OK. And in Buddhist thought, that’s where suffering starts.

Let go of the narrative that happiness has to look a certain way

A coaching client of mine once said, “I know I should be happy. I’ve ticked all the boxes. Good job, nice apartment, stable relationship. But I feel numb.”

This is more common than we think. We inherit ideas of happiness—from parents, culture, social media—and we carry those ideals even when they no longer fit. The pressure to perform happiness can be exhausting.

Psychologist Barry Schwartz famously explored this in The Paradox of Choice. Too many options, too much comparison, and too much pressure to get it right—it all leads to dissatisfaction. Not because we lack, but because we’re drowning in expectation.

The Buddhist concept of non-attachment invites us to examine the stories we tell ourselves. Are they helping us feel alive? Or are they boxing us in?

In my case, I had to release the idea that my life had to look “impressive” to be meaningful. I moved out of a high-rise in Sydney to live closer to nature. My income dropped—but my joy grew.

Make peace with the parts of you you’ve been trying to fix

One of the most powerful shifts in my own journey came when I stopped treating my “flaws” as enemies. I used to think that if I meditated more, studied more, or did enough self-work, I could transcend anxiety, jealousy, or doubt.

But I’ve learned that trying to get rid of these parts of myself just gave them more power. The real peace came from allowing them. Observing them. Even welcoming them, like old friends with rough edges.

Psychologist Carl Rogers once said, “The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change.”

This is echoed in Buddhist practice too—particularly in non-attachment. When we stop clinging to the idea of being “perfect” or “enlightened,” we begin to access true compassion. Not just toward others, but toward ourselves.

Invest in connection, not performance

We live in an age of metrics. Followers, likes, achievements. Even relationships sometimes feel transactional—what can you give me? How do I compare to others?

But research consistently shows that the greatest predictor of happiness isn’t status. It’s connection. Real, messy, honest connection.

The Harvard Study of Adult Development, the longest-running study of happiness, found that strong relationships are the single most consistent factor in long-term well-being. Not money. Not fame. Not productivity.

When I think back on the happiest moments in my life, they’re rarely about career wins. They’re about being deeply present with someone—laughing over street food in Bangkok, hugging a friend in silence, feeling understood without needing to explain.

Non-attachment here means letting go of how a relationship should look, and instead asking: “Is this real?” Because real matters more than perfect.

Embrace the small, the slow, the ordinary

Here’s something I never expected: some of the happiest people I’ve met live the simplest lives. A retired couple who garden every morning. A Balinese rice farmer who sings as he works. A single mom in Lisbon who takes her daughter to the ocean every weekend without fail.

They aren’t chasing the extraordinary. They’re anchored in the ordinary.

I used to think I needed adventure to feel alive. And sure, I still love the occasional leap into the unknown. But these days, I find joy in walking my dogs through quiet Bangkok alleys. In cooking dinner slowly. In sitting on the floor with friends and letting the conversation wander.

In Buddhist teaching, this is the heart of mindfulness. Noticing. Receiving the moment as it is, not as we think it needs to be.

Mindfulness perspective: The freedom of letting go

Non-attachment isn’t about being indifferent. It’s about freedom. The freedom to love without clinging. To strive without gripping. To live without constantly editing reality.

One of my teachers once told me, “You can hold life gently, or you can choke it trying to control it.” That image has stayed with me.

When we release our death grip on how things should unfold, we open up to how they are. And often, what is contains more beauty than anything we could have planned.

A practice I often recommend is the “soft exhale.” Throughout the day, pause and take a slow, conscious breath out. Not to achieve anything—just to remind your body that it’s safe to let go. It sounds simple, but it’s a doorway into presence.

Final thoughts: Happiness isn’t something we chase—it’s something we come home to

What I’ve found, again and again, is that happiness isn’t out there waiting for us. It’s here. But only when we stop clinging, comparing, or running.

We don’t need a perfect life. We need a present one. One we can meet with open hands.

So if you’re tired of the chase, I invite you to pause. To sit with what is. And to consider: what might life feel like if you didn’t have to fix it?

Sometimes, that’s where happiness begins.