We spend an enormous amount of time thinking about and pursuing what makes us happy. Friends. Love. Money. Health. Purpose. Travel. Accomplishment. A good meal.

But what does happiness actually feel like?

What is happening inside me during those moments when I would say, without much hesitation, I am happy right now?

My first thought is that happiness feels surprisingly less like pleasure than we might expect. It often feels like the temporary absence of wanting reality to be different.

I think the feeling has three basic parts, with a fourth that seems to emerge when the first three line up.

1) Acceptance: Nothing Needs Fixing

When I am happy, I am not wrestling very much with reality.

I don't need the weather to change, dinner to arrive faster, the conversation to become more interesting or the people around me to behave differently. For a little while, I stop mentally negotiating on improvement.

That includes me. The little internal auditor who normally has comments about my performance has apparently taken the afternoon off. I am not replaying something stupid I said, comparing myself with somebody else or cataloging the ways I should be better.

There may still be plenty in my life that needs fixing. Happiness doesn't require everything to be right. It only seems to require that, for this particular stretch of time, I am not struggling with what is.

Reality does not require editing.

2) Interference: Nothing Is Subtracting From Now

Acceptance isn't quite enough. I can accept reality perfectly well and still have a terrible toothache.

Pain, worry, regret, shame, and conflict all make claims on attention. Worry pulls me into the future. Regret pulls me into the past. Shame turns attention against myself. Conflict keeps part of my mind engaged with another person even when that person isn't in the room. Each takes something away from now.

Happiness pervades when those deductions become unusually small.

Nothing is subtracting from the moment.

This explains why an objectively wonderful experience can fail to make us happy. The beach can be beautiful, the food excellent and the hotel wonderful, but one unresolved fight can occupy half the available consciousness.

The good is still there, we just don't have full access to it.

3) Sufficiency: I Want Nothing Else

This may be the strangest part. When I am really happy, I am not reaching very hard.

I don't need another person to arrive. I don't need to check what is happening somewhere else. I am not waiting for the next activity or thinking tomorrow will be better.

For this moment, this is sufficient.

That doesn't mean I have stopped having ambitions or desires. They simply aren't making claims on me right now. And there is an important difference between accepting the moment and not wanting another one.

I don't merely accept being here. I don't want to be elsewhere.

Presence: And Then I Am Here

Take away those three forms of interference and something interesting happens.

My attention stays here.

I am not spending it resisting the present. Nothing painful or troubling is consuming a large piece of it. And I am not sending it toward some better person, place, activity or future.

Maybe that is why happiness so often resembles complete presence. Sometimes I even lose track of time. I am not waiting for the moment to end or wondering what comes next.

We often talk about presence as something we have to practice. Pay attention. Be mindful. Live in the moment. But perhaps presence is what happens when the mind has nowhere more urgent or desirable to go.

There are different flavors of this state. Joy can feel expansive and energized. Contentment can feel settled and sufficient. Connection can feel warm and porous. Sometimes happiness is physically vibrant. I want to move, talk, sing, laugh and stay another hour. Other times it is almost perfectly still.

The lack of pull to elsewhere and elsewhen make here and now better.

Friendship: A Good Us Makes This Easier

We can certainly reach this state alone. But other people may provide a shortcut.

Think about one of those unusually good dinners, trips, walks, boat days, or nights sitting around somebody's kitchen. Nobody is trying very hard to be present. Yet hours disappear.

I am here, with these people, and I don't want to be somewhere else with anyone else.

The right people make all three parts easier. Nothing between us needs fixing. Conflict or vigilance aren't consuming my attention. And I don't wish somebody else were here.

Someone makes me laugh and I forget tomorrow. Someone becomes interesting and I forget myself. Conversation carries my attention without demanding it.

A good us makes happiness easier.

The opposite is also true. A difficult relationship can violate all three conditions at once. Something between us needs fixing. Conflict subtracts from now. And I start imagining another room, another evening, another life. The person doesn't even have to be there. Part of my attention cannot join my happiness.

The right people reduce our reasons to leave the moment.

So what does happiness feel like?

Nothing needs fixing. Nothing important is subtracting from now. I want nothing else.

And for a little while, I am completely here.