More wants more

Money and happiness came to mind after visiting an acquaintance on Strandvejen. I had plenty to be happy about myself, but I could still see something that would be even better. And even the man who had far more than me had a neighbouring house that could make the dream a little bigger.

That was the experience I described in August 2012. My point wasn’t that you should stop striving. I just wanted to remind myself that the next material level wasn’t necessarily where happiness was waiting.

I certainly had nothing to complain about

We lived in Lyngby in a lovely wing of a farmhouse, just under 200 square metres. I had rented it because, at the time, I thought house prices would fall further. It was a really nice place.

We had two cars, a Fiat 500 and an Audi A3. Nice cars, although coming home from the US and paying Danish car prices had taken some getting used to. My finances were fine, I owed nobody anything, and we also had a holiday home in Turkey.

There was a financial crisis, and I needed to look after Amino, so I thought having a financial reserve was a good idea. But I couldn’t complain. Several people said they envied the home, the cars or my work. I understood that. I was pretty happy myself.

Then we visited Strandvejen

A good man I knew lived in a wonderful place on Strandvejen. I guessed the house was around 600–700 square metres. It was beautiful, they were renovating it, and there was a lovely new kitchen.

There was also a Mercedes in the carport. You couldn’t see the sea directly from the house, but if you walked around the neighbour’s house, you reached a beach on the Øresund. I described it as their own private beach, with a beautiful jetty, a place for a bonfire and a terrace along the way.

Imagine taking a morning swim and sitting by the water having a barbecue. My wife and I talked about how lovely it was. When we asked whether they were happy with the place, of course the answer was yes.

But the neighbour’s house was right on the Øresund, with the view. If you could have that too, it would be even better. I mentioned more than DKK 50 million as a figure in that conversation. That was a lot of money.

There’s always something that could be a little bigger

I then imagined asking the neighbour how satisfied he was. Perhaps he would say the view was wonderful, but a house on the Swedish side also got the sunset. Or that another house further along had a couple of hundred extra square metres and a pool where you could lie looking out over the water.

That was an imaginary conversation, not something the neighbour had said. It simply showed how easily the comparisons can continue.

My 200 square metres in Lyngby weren’t 600–700 on Strandvejen. And those, in turn, weren’t a thousand square metres with a direct sea view. But even that wasn’t Amalienborg Palace. You could keep going like that.

I wasn’t unhappy with what I had. I had interesting work and was having fun. But I could still see something bigger or more beautiful. That relative nature of it was exactly what I found interesting.

Money and happiness weren’t the same thing for me

When I thought how great it would be to afford something more, I also tried to remind myself that it wouldn’t automatically make me happier.

I referred very categorically to research on happiness but didn’t mention a specific study. My explanation was that money and material things make a crucial difference if you can’t meet your basic needs.

I used the image of a family under a motorway bridge. If your children are cold, you’re hungry and the future is frightening, money and somewhere to live matter a great deal. I connected that to the basic needs in Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.

From there, I drew a very simplistic conclusion that more material possessions didn’t make the same difference once basic needs were met. I also made sweeping generalisations about who had access to housing and help in Denmark, mentioning homelessness and mental illness. That was my interpretation at the time, not a documented description of everyone’s circumstances or proof that homelessness is a free choice.

The excitement of something new wears off

If you move from a small flat to a huge house by the water, of course the first few days can feel fantastic. Wow, look at that view! Something new and exciting can bring a feeling of happiness, almost like falling in love.

But I believed that feeling faded again. I even said the person in the big house wasn’t a tenth of a per cent happier than the person in a one-room flat in Vesterbro, unless other circumstances made the difference.

That was a sharp way of expressing my point, not a measurement of two specific people’s happiness. I wanted to remind myself that the size of my home alone wasn’t something to build my whole life around.

I still wanted to strive for something

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to move forward. I believed striving was part of living. It could mean a bigger house or a car, but just as easily more free time, more children or something completely different.

I made a crude joke about that drive having got us out of our caves. Behind the joke was the idea that the desire to develop moves both society and us as people forward.

It could be a bigger vegetable garden, redder apples, more money or more space. I believed we want to feel we’re moving forward and that something is happening. I didn’t want to simply stand still.

Also stop and see what you have now

The other thing was being able to stop for a moment and say: bloody hell, I’m lucky. Just look at what I already have.

Whether a hedge blocked the view over the Øresund or I lived in a small flat wasn’t the most important thing. For me, it was more about moving forward, feeling useful and meaning something to other people. Helping others and feeling they need you.

I also highlighted the tiny moments. If you see a rainbow, stop and look at it. Think how beautiful it is. Or look at the children playing on the floor and feel how lovely they are. That was the sort of joy I wanted to remember instead of always looking towards the next thing.

Do you like the work that will take you forward?

Once you’re aware of that, perhaps you can prioritise a little differently. Do you need to work so hard all the time? Of course, that depends on whether you think the work is the most fun in the world. Quite often, I did.

If you’re an entrepreneur and enjoy the process, it’s fine to keep working your way forward. Then it isn’t only the result that gives you something. The work along the way has value for you too.

But if you hate the process and work flat out towards a material goal that might not make you happier either, I thought that was a poor deal. Then you’re wasting the present on something you dislike to reach a reward that won’t necessarily solve it.

My suggestion was either to find more beauty in what you already had, or to find work and something to get stuck into that brought you joy along the way. It was fine to want more. I just didn’t want to forget to enjoy life while I was getting there. Also read Skab din egen succes about finding your own path and creating a life you’re happy with.