Happiness is a process that you continue to change,
in fact, you never use the same process twice.
All processes are defined by brain context,
which is defined by environmental and metacognitive context.

But is this all predefined by something beyond physical determinism?

That would be, in a word, mind.

Mind determines happiness in relation to brain context,
which is in relation to physical and metacognitive contexts.

In fact, it is your mind that sets the variables.
So much happens unconsciously,
it is difficult to track it all.
It must be felt and responded to as if in a movie.
One must imagine being in a movie that must continue to be entertaining for all those that are watching and acting in it.

It must be good for all players,
so it is your job to act your part,
whatever that may be,
and hope that you are allowed to move onto the next scene,
in which you are the star of the show.

I once tried to write a short story. It was a three-line dialog about a trip a long time ago that these two dudes went on. It went something like this:

“19 miles to midnight.”
“What?”
“Ok, 18.8.”

The only problem was it was too long. I needed a short story, and fast. Two lines would have been nice, but I couldn’t compact the interaction into such a small dialectal space. Surely I had to reverse my thinking and add a line. So I tried it with four:

“How much further, Jim?”
“19 miles.”
“19 miles to midnight…”
“Well, 18.8 to be exact.”

Unfortunately, it lacked a convincing conclusion. How would the story end? Would the passenger fall silent in satisfaction at the respecified 18.8-mile reply, or would there take place some kind of conflict at that? A discreet critique of Jim’s need to speak accurately perhaps? It certainly needed something — either a resolution or dissolution; at this point it was exceedingly flat. But nothing was coming to me…

At some point about a week later on it struck me to limit myself to three lines, as I had originally intended to do, but to sneak in a whole new character as well. So then I had Jim, the driver, the curious cat (to be known as ‘Frederíco’), and another whom I called ‘the old author’, a retired novelist. It went a little something like this:

“Man, I bet it would take you a month if you were gonna hike it.”, said Frederíco, trying with false appreciation to mask what was really impatience.
Jim gave a flat driver’s-grunt and laid out his ETA: “19 more miles to midnight, folks.”
The old author gazed out at the dim rolling dunes and chimed in to keep everyone aware of the stars that would spin and said: “Look!”

At least now the readers could grin knowing that: even outside of his books can the retired novelist write a new fact. And so, from the muse, it was this story I took.

☯: I used to be a taoist
but couldn’t feel in black and white

✴: I used to be a buddhist
but symbols labeled me at night

☆: I used to be a child
but biology chose me not to rest

♥: I used to be a somebody
but then of just-about-anyone I thought the best

∆: I used to be a liberal
but had great energy to conserve

⚡: Then I saw solar and was green to convert
but knew pollution could not all be environmentally cured

♦: So now I write
because the words are not set tight
before my pen rolls over them
the linear gift of a gem of my choice
the present my thoughts of profound and deep voice