My quest for happiness in Denmark #8
Revisiting the authentic meaning of Ikigai
Since I started writing this series of articles on Denmark and happiness, I’ve often talked about happiness with people around me.
For example, when I met Iliana from Venezuela at the job hunting course for newcomers (story #6), I said that I was writing about Denmark and happiness. “Why Danes are happy?” she asked, “that’s because they don’t have to worry about anything! They have free education and medical services. Everything is guaranteed here.”
When Jonathan, one of my Canadian friends who lives in the U.S., visited our home in Copenhagen, he said,
“Danish happiness is not quite happiness, it is “satisfaction”, I think. Happiness is more like Ikigai, isn’t it?”
“What?”
I was surprised to hear the Japanese word “Ikigai” from Jonathan, who did not speak Japanese.
I did not know it at the time, but it seems as if “Ikigai” had already entered into the English language, and has been translated as “the reason for being”. I found several bestselling books on “Ikigai” in English, which linked “Ikigai” to longevity for the people of Okinawa, a small island in Japan.
There were also well-circulated Venn diagrams on “Ikigai”, which explained Ikigai as an overlapped area among “what you love”, “what the world needs”, “what you are good at” and “what you can be paid for”. It sounds a bit strange that Ikigai links to income (not so many Japanese consider their work as their Ikigai), but anyhow, Ikigai appears to have become a popular concept even outside Japan.
Happiness is... different in Denmark and in Japan/U.S.?
When I thought about happiness in Denmark, I was thinking the same thing as Iliana and Jonathan. That is, when people talk about happiness in Denmark, it is not really the same type of happiness Japanese people in general would imagine, or what I learned at the “Happiness course” at Harvard University in the U.S.
It is perhaps a subtle difference, but to me, happiness in Denmark is, in a way, more about appreciating what they already have. Whereas in Japan or in the U.S., “happiness” seems to be more of an active pursuit… at least this is how I perceive the difference.
I noticed that Danish people appreciate their generous welfare system, from free education (they even receive stipends when they go to college) to free medical care. Moreover, they have quite a good work-life-balance with short working hours. With the combination of these, Danish people seem to have a deep sense of security and satisfaction.
For instance, “hygge” (story #3), which is often cited as the secret of Danish happiness, also has a lot to do with appreciating what they already have, stuff in everyday life.
I am fortunate to have a great work-life balance in Copenhagen, since my Danish husband comes home early and this makes a huge difference in raising our three year old daughter.
Also, compared to my life in Japan and in the U.S., I feel much more secure here since I do not have to worry about my family’s educational or medical costs.
However, if I am asked whether I am 100 % happy because of such a sense of security, it’s not the case. As I mentioned in story #4 on Harvard’s class on happiness, “happiness does not spontaneously arise when we take unhappiness away”.
And while “happiness” is an ambiguous word, if I were to replace it with “Ikigai”, it is easier for me to understand what I am trying to find here in Denmark.
Learning that Ikigai in English is now getting popular, I wanted to revisit the authentic meaning of Ikigai. So I went to my bookshelf and picked up one of the classic books on Ikigai in Japanese, “On Ikigai”, written by female psychiatrist Mieko Kamiya (1914–1979). I read it again for the first time in a while.
Learning “Ikigai” from leprosy patients
The book “On Ikigai” is based on the research and observations by Kamiya, who worked at an isolated leprosy sanatorium in Japan. The book was published in 1966 but is still read widely nowadays and recognized as a classic.
Back then, leprosy patients had to suffer from lingering prejudices towards their illness. Many of them had to leave their homes, otherwise their family members would also have been mistreated by people around them. Patients had to spend the rest of their lives in an isolated institution, and they were not allowed to have children. They felt a strong sense of shame and alienation.
In her book, Kamiya wrote that patients were in a desperate situation and “most of them thought about committing suicide at least once, and it was not rare to repeat suicide attempts twice or three times.”
However, among these patients, there were a few exceptions who did not lose the joy of living. Even with blindness or fingers paralyzed, they read the music scores and would play the harmonica, relying on their lips and tongues. What Kamiya found in the hearts of those patients was, “Ikigai”.
In her book, she asks;
“What is it that makes us feel like our life is worth living? Once you lose Ikigai, how would you find Ikigai again?”
Kamiya claims that a sense of Ikigai, compared to a sense of happiness, has a clearer sense of attitude towards the future, and also, it is closer to the sense of oneself. If there are hopes and goals in the future, no matter what the current situation is, you can feel Ikigai on the way to getting there. And if the Ikigai you are pursuing is something only you can do, then the sense of fulfillment becomes even stronger.
I also read Kamiya’s diary during the period of her writing “On Ikigai”. Here it was clear that she herself found a strong sense of Ikigai in studying and writing about it.
She writes,
“Oh, my heart is full and bursting with things I have been feeling for many years. I cannot die until I have poured it all out. All the real work starts from now on. I cannot stay still.”
When Kamiya wrote this, she was 45 years old. Her writing came into its own from around this time, and I am simply jealous of her having something to be so passionate about.
While I was reading Kamiya’s books, I remembered what my teacher at Harvard, Tal Ben-Shahar, wrote to me in his email (story #4). He wrote, “going through periods of uncertainty (and unhappiness) is natural, and in fact can be a springboard to deeper understanding of one’s purpose and passion.”
To me, this message seems to overlap with finding a new Ikigai in Denmark.
Advice from a bestselling author
In mid-March, I had a chance to have lunch with the English author and journalist, Michael Booth.
Michael is well-versed in Japan since he has written several books about Japan, which turned into a TV animation series. In his bestseller, “The Almost Nearly Perfect People”, he depicted five Nordic countries and observed why they were considered among the happiest people in the world.
Since it was a great opportunity, I asked Michael about my view on happiness in Denmark. I think that happiness in Denmark is sort of “passive” and similar to “satisfaction,” what do you think?
“It is maybe a misunderstanding to say Danish happiness is passive,” he said.
“They actively seek hygge. You can find hygge even in the dentist. They work hard to make hygge work.”
At the same time, he agreed with my view on Danish people’s happiness as something closer to satisfaction. And I strongly agreed with his comment that their way of being happy is somehow linked to their “anti-ambition” attitude.
In this country, ambition seems to be unpopular. The concept of “Jante Law” is a pervading view, which restrains people from considering themselves as someone special. So it is considered as a bad taste when people flaunt their success, or rich people show off their luxury car and brand-name items (thus it is difficult to distinguish who is rich or who is not.)
Here, the highest tax rate is 52% (plus there are other kinds of “contributions” to be added), so actually, trying to earn huge amounts of money does not make much sense. In other words, attempting to achieve high status or high salary does not mean as much here compared to other countries.
Michael talked candidly about himself when he moved to Denmark in 2000. “I grew up in Mrs. Thatcher’s Britain and I was ambitious from a young age. When I came here, I was writing for the Guardian e.t.c., but then I had no value in Danish society. It was really tough for years.”
Our lunch turned into spontaneous career counseling, and he challenged me by asking this: “You went to a good school, you had a successful career and now you have a family. If I ask in a Danish way… isn’t it enough?”
My immediate response was “but I have not done my real work yet.” I was surprised to hear my own words, but it seemed like the phrase from Kamiya Mieko’s diary had stuck in my mind. Nevertheless, this was my honest feeling. When my child is older, I do not want to be “a mother who used to be great,” but someone who works passionately on something, on-going.
Michael smiled. “You cannot live hygge alone. You have to fulfill yourself personally. Just write a bestseller, and you will be perfect,” he said to me with a little caveat:
“But do not expect that Danes will appreciate it.”
(This series of articles "My quest for happiness in Denmark" is my translation of articles written for the Japanese magazine, Courrier Japon)
