The Good Life™: Sold Separately
(A Meditation on Fulfillment in a World That Forgot What Living Means)
“In the end, the good life isn’t about how much we’ve collected, but how deeply we’ve felt, how freely we’ve loved, and how courageously we showed up as ourselves.”
Everyone’s chasing the “good life,” happiness, fulfillment or whatever you want to call it. But what does it actually mean? And who gets to define it?
The more conversations I have, the more I realize most people don’t really know what they’re chasing. In America especially, the “good life” is often equated with financial success and material possessions. A nice car, a bigger house, the corner office or symbols of arrival. But in other parts of the world, fulfillment looks different. People tend to value experiences, relationships, and even stillness in ways we often overlook.
So I decided to break this idea down and not just to understand it, but to figure out if maybe, by dissecting what “the good life” is supposed to be, I can finally figure out what I’m really looking for.
The Roots of Fulfillment: Culture, Values, and the Self
What you find fulfilling is deeply personal and shaped by your values, your upbringing, and the culture you come from.
If you grew up in survival mode, then comfort, security, and financial freedom might feel like paradise. If you were raised around love and abundance, you might crave purpose, creativity, or spiritual growth instead. Culture reinforces these desires. In the West, we’re taught to believe that more is better. More income, more status, more control. The hustle is holy, and burnout is a badge of honor.
But in other places — say, parts of South America, Southeast Asia, or the Mediterranean — the “good life” looks different. It’s a long meal with family. It’s music in the street. It’s rest without guilt. It’s working to live, not living to work.
Even personality matters. Introverts may crave depth and slowness; extroverts, adventure and human connection. Some need solitude to feel alive, others need the energy of a room. Yet most of us rarely stop to ask what we actually need. We just absorb what’s around us. What’s popular. What’s safe.
But living someone else’s definition of happiness is the fastest way to become numb.
Mortality: The Hidden Teacher We Avoid
Here’s the truth we avoid at all costs: you’re going to die. And so am I. We don’t like thinking about it, but we should — not to be morbid, but to be awake.
We treat time like it’s infinite, like we can keep postponing joy, peace, and meaning until some ideal “someday” — after the promotion, after the raise, after the kids are older, after the debt’s gone, after we retire.
But “someday” is a myth. Life doesn’t wait for you to catch your breath. It just… keeps moving. The emails don’t stop. The rent doesn’t pause. And while we’re busy checking boxes and numbing ourselves with distractions, we forget: this isn’t a rehearsal.
We only get one shot. One life. And wasting it chasing someone else’s version of success — or worse, dying before we ever figured out what matters to us — might be the greatest tragedy of all.
The Lie of the Good Life™
We’ve been sold a version of “the good life” that’s sleek, shiny, and ultimately hollow. It’s curated on Instagram and marketed in 60-second commercials. It’s fast cars, white kitchens, tropical getaways, and people with perfect teeth and perfect lighting. It’s the illusion that happiness can be achieved through consumption. But consumption doesn’t nourish the soul — it just distracts it.
We were made for something deeper.
We were made for connection.
We were made to feel — even the hard stuff.
We were made to create, to love, to explore, to lose track of time doing things that matter.
And somehow, we traded that in for convenience and control.
So What Is the Good Life?
After reflecting deeply — not just intellectually but emotionally, spiritually, viscerally — here’s what I’ve come to believe:
The good life is rooted in presence.
Not tomorrow. Not five years from now. Now.
It’s the quality of your relationships, not the number in your bank account. It’s the sound of someone’s laugh when they feel safe with you. It’s the warmth of being truly seen. It’s meaningful experiences — even small ones — that make you feel alive, not just entertained.
It’s love. Real love. The kind that’s inconvenient, messy, but worth it.
It’s creativity. Using your unique fingerprint to leave something behind — a painting, a poem, a child, a moment of kindness that ripples outward.
It’s honoring your weirdness, your wounds, your wonder.
It’s making peace with your past, not performing for your future.
It’s knowing that this day, this breath, this body — is temporary. And treating it like a sacred gift.
That, to me, is the good life.
Not something you chase.
Not something you buy.
But something you remember — deep down — was yours all along.
https://positivepsychology.com/hedonic-treadmill/
https://www.bbc.com/worklife/article/20201104-the-japanese-concept-of-ikigai-finding-purpose-in-life
