I’ve met a fair amount of happy people in my lifetime. There are some people who are just continually happy, but it’s more frequent to just happen to catch someone during a particularly happy moment, like when they’re holding a puppy or eating an ice cream sundae or watching the Cubs win the World Series . . . stuff like that. But maybe no brand of people are happier than the ones I’ve heard talking about their time on a really good cruise.
Now, I assume these people were happier when they were on their cruises than when they were simply reminiscing about said cruises whilst in my company some many months and/or years removed from the miracle of cruise-ship living. I wouldn’t know, as I’ve never been on a cruise to see in person how happy the cruisers really are in the moment. But I can say with some great certainty that the happiness level of a post-cruise person in full-on cruise storytelling mode is right up there with the happiest happiness I’ve ever observed.
Naturally, I thought of this when I saw the promo video for the Ecocapsule living module. Yeah, I know, it shows people in the middle of an open field living in their little solar-/wind-powered versions of The Bean, not floating in the middle of the Caribbean drinking margaritas, but the ultra-compact living quarters reminds me of what I’ve heard the cabins on cruise ships are like. And it naturally got me thinking about happiness in a really cramped space.
Cruise people are happy, yet they live in tiny rooms with tiny beds and tiny bathrooms and tiny toilets and tiny showers. On a cruise, you have almost no stuff and very possibly no wifi or cell service. What they do have in bountiful supply, however, is experience. And food, sure, loads of food. And drinks. And fun. I find it so intriguing that some of the happiest times many people ever experience come in this environment that is so drastically different from the big-bedded, spacious-roomed, wifi-filled routine of their everyday homes. It’s not a complete mystery, quite the opposite, really. The mindset on a cruise is simple: you don’t go for the room, you go for the experience and luxury of everything on the ship and the various ports and points of interest. But it raises the question, Why don’t we live like that all the time? Why do we make home ownership the single-biggest expense most of us incur? Why make our own personal living quarters the place we spend most of our time?
Well, some people are making it a point to live quite differently from that norm, and I have to say it triggers the dreaming part of my brain pretty intensely. On one of my daily podcasts, I heard a story about a couple who converted their normal home into a rental and built a small dwelling, not all that different from the Ecocapsule, on the property. They “live” in the tiny module, draw income from their house, and now teach other people to do the same. They spend most of their time traveling off of the income they pull from the training, building, and rental. It sounds pretty awesome.
I don’t know that I plan to put the money down to be one of the first 50 people to live in an Ecocapsule, but I do think it would be a phenomenal experiment and experience to live in a small shell and make the focus of life to soak in the environment, culture, people, and world that surrounds me rather than the comfort and endless streams of entertainment we find in the expanse of our homes.
I’m not a hippie, I swear.
Okay, here’s today’s easy question:
To whom did Mork from Ork report at the end of every episode of Mork & Mindy?
Oh, and the last answer? That dude bought two Papa John’s pizzas for 10,000 bitcoin, the going rate of which is now somewhere in the order of $120,000. Not too shabby.