Hardcore Happiness with Dr. Jeff W Welsh: Weekly Hardcore Happiness Articles

THE ONE THING

Jeff W Welsh — Sat, 13 Dec 2025 22:36:41 GMT

This essay is different from my usual writing. I’m a couple of weeks away from the end of my 67th year and not feeling inclined to waste time. I’m showing up to do some existential excavation today; if you’re here for comfort, I’m not your guy. If you’re here for transformation, pull up a chair. You’ve been warned.

I’ve been trying to figure it out since I was a kid: What is this place? What are the rules here? Who the hell is in charge? I studied and read and got a bunch of degrees and a lifetime of experience but still, it felt like I should know the one thing that ties it all together by now.

And I do. All of a sudden, I do.

Choose whatever job you feel like doing; whatever is worth your effort. Or choose none at all.

Become an expert in a field that interests you and benefits others. Or save your energy for porn and TV bingeing. Your best effort will likely be inconsequential, statistically speaking.

Pick whatever political rhetoric resonates with you at the moment. Or pick none. Over time, your views will change anyway.

Love whomever you want and fuck anybody who will willingly fuck you back, but realize that love and lust are not the same thing. Or don’t. You and everybody you know will be dead in a few decades.

Save and invest carefully. Or blow it all on sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll. Or play it somewhere in the middle. It can all go away in a second no matter what you do, trust me. It’s your money, after all.

Eat right, exercise, stay away from shit you know is bad for you and hope that you live a happy, pain-free life. Or tempt the gods and push it right to the edge because anything can happen at any time. I personally try to hedge my bets, but you do you. It’s nobody else’s business.

Worship whatever god or gods make you feel safe and secure, or don’t buy any of it. No one really knows anything at all; hope and faith and belief are not knowledge. Anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to control you.

Identify as whomever or whatever you please. No one really gives a shit, honestly. Anyone who tells you otherwise is using you for their own motives.

Be a really nice person or be a raging asshole. The course of your life isn’t guaranteed in either case.

Follow the rules and stay out of trouble. Or be a “rebel.” I choose whatever enhances my chances at freedom, but that’s just me.

No one cares. It doesn’t matter, in any permanent sense.

Get this: You don’t have to answer or explain yourself to anyone. You don’t need anyone’s permission to do anything, or to do nothing.

The past is gone and for all of your whining and bitching and crying, there is absolutely nothing you can do to change it.

Stop wasting your time trying to influence things that are out of your control. Know that almost everything is out of your control.

You are mortal, nothing lasts and little besides luck creates real change.

You didn’t ask to be here, you have no idea what to do while you’re here, and you are clueless as to when you will leave, or where you go next, if anywhere. Remember that, and do what thou wilt. But don’t dwell on it. Memento mori is useful right up to the point that it becomes the only thought in your head.

Think for yourself, as well as you can. If you need to figure something out, do it from your own limited research and reasoning. If you need a moral compass, consult your own fallible emotions.

Or follow the herd and let someone else think for you. It’s unlikely to have a consequential impact one way or the other.

Do what you believe you should do, in accordance with your own thinking. Because I — we, all of us — HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE. This raw rant is, at its core, all you need to know about existentialism.

So here you have it: several hundred words of my own bullshit, to put with all the other bullshit you have consumed in your lifetime. Ignore it, if you want, but realize there is something real in there — maybe the only thing that is real.

Here’s what I came to say, the only absolute truth I know, the One Thing:

Live your life while you’re alive.

That’s it. That’s the whole fucking thing.

☩ ☩ ☩

Jeff W. Welsh is the author of The Calling and the creator of the Hardcore Happiness project. More at JeffWWelsh.com.

Undone

Jeff W Welsh — Mon, 28 Jul 2025 23:45:18 GMT

“Tide‘s coming in,” she said.

Looks like it.

He was a bit startled to hear the voice.

As usual, when he looked up, no one was there.

He was still alone here, at the End of All Things.

It had taken a long time—a lifetime, to be exact—to get here.

At the beginning of it all, there were a million shades of green, fragrant in the warm sun and soft to lie in. Flowers of all types and sizes lent their colors to the lush blanket in the shade of the fecund trees. Even the dirt was alive; sinewy worms deposited their nitrogenous vermicastings to replenish the dark soil, and bugs of all manner—similarly resplendent in their ladybug reds and hornet yellows and iridescent blues and greens—crawled and buzzed and flew. And the green was safe and sleepy.

Such was the nature of the valley of his grandfather’s garden, in the early times.

And faces! Smiling and kind and falsely immortal, looking down at him. People appeared, unbidden, from every reach and recess to hold and feed and entertain and protect. A village of family and friends—for everyone was friendly—animated by the soundtrack of gentle prattle and music and laughter.

He remembered all this as if it were only yesterday (and perhaps it was—time is funny like that).

After his grandfather ended, silently, in the sleepy soft garden, things progressed as things do, and he eventually came to the steep mountains that encinctured the gently sloping valley.

Life was more effort than event there in the mountains, as the air thinned and the slope of the grade progressed exponentially. He was young then, and strong, and the climb was an invigorating test of heart, lungs and muscle. The sweat paid rich dividends in pine scent and vista; he could see far beyond the valley to lands previously unexplored by him. (Perhaps by anyone?)

The elevation was more than scenic. Conflict beset man since man was, and it is ancient knowledge that he who holds the high ground is likely to be victorious. Even in times without conflict, he reckoned, man seeks the mountains as though elevation transcends the physical. It is said that the moral high ground is a singular good, isn't it? And the gods (and maybe God) live in the mountains; everyone knows that.

Gods and dragons.

Why leave the valley at all? Why abjure the safe, sleepy green for hard, high rocks? There were still bugs, to be sure, but also animals of a size and carnivorous predisposition that could render him lunch. And the people were less, and less talkative in the high places, probably busy seeking their own High Places.

Still, the mountains were there, and different, and held the promise of…what? At this, he was stumped, but he knew that the thing he was seeking would make itself evident when he found it, or it found him.

He sang back to the rivers, in their native tongue. He danced the swaying dance of the pines when the wind howled its harsh—but true—pronouncements. The other denizens of the mountain gradually accepted him, as he paid his homage of solitude and persistence, and so he wasn’t lunch after all. And while he didn’t find God (or the gods), he was sure they were close at hand.

Many seasons passed and he was content there, in the high mountains, for a long while. One day, as the days shortened and the nights became colder, he had a realization—almost an epiphany, if such exists—that something had changed. That his experience of life, there in the high places, was not the same as it had been. That, perhaps, he was not as he had been.

The steep walks were now somehow more…difficult. The thin air seemed to have gotten thinner; his heart pounded a warning and his muscles ached in remonstration. The cold days felt colder and the winter sometimes felt endless.

With a shock that felt like melancholy, he remembered that he forgotten his why; the reason he left the safe valley so long ago. He had been searching for something; something unnamed yet so important as to compel a journey up the mountain.

But in return for its boon—the bounty provided so that he could survive and thrive—the mountain demanded all of his attention, and commandeered his focus with lush distraction of view and bough and scent.

Through the clouds of his warm breath he saw, far in the distance (from here, he saw many things in the faraway), a place of warmth. And the sight filled him with remembrance and remorse and a sort of longing; a faint pang of loss for that which he had been unable to gain.

So down from the hills he traveled, past the pines and streams and meadow, propelled again by recollection of a quest for—he saw it now—his reason, and his place, and…his time.

And…yes, that was it…Time itself. So much time had already expired and yet he was unfulfilled; so much of the journey remained to explore and experience and exhilarate!

If he could only find Time.

The desert he had viewed from above beckoned with warmth and flatness and reprieve from rain; a place that, with any luck, would make his quest and Time easier. Here, surely, he would savor the fine contentment commensurate with answers to a question burning, albeit as yet poorly formed. The discovery of why was simply a matter of Time.

Alas! Luck, like young love, is powerful in motivation, yet ephemeral in the logistics of reality: the desert was not inviting warm but threatening hot. Its creatures were predisposed by reflex to bite and strike and sting. Wind and sand unending were its offerings, and no friendly familiar faces could be found. As if they long ago and in judgement superior had forsaken this barren place.

And the heat smelled like death.

Death! Clear now and intimate, like a lightning strike close and impossible to ignore, he was possessed of the reality that death is the devourer of Time.

In a fevered panic, now, he fled the desert to escape the heat and the sand and the nothing that it contained; perchance to escape that which is the ender of Time.

So enlightened, he walked on toward the End of All Things. He stopped when the land gave way to the sea and he could walk no farther.

No place left to go.

No question remained unanswered; no quest uncompleted.

At last he understood, and his spirit was as quiet as as the anoxic hypolimnion of deep, cold water. He observed:

The beach is sandy; once mighty masses of rock ground away to fine nothing. Vast coral reefs, once housing vibrant life, suffer the same fate. The sea is salty, as ever-so-slightly acid rain over eons decomposes the rock, and untold quintillions of cells undergo a kind of postmortem apoptosis, releasing their chemical guts in a deep-time spasm of entropy. Everywhere lay the corpses of kelp forests and crabs, and the birds that once fed upon them. Only sand fleas thrive amongst the scenic dead and rotting driftwood, feasting upon death.

The diorama of impermanence made clear its missive: Your spark of consciousness IS the ineffable, impossibly improbable summum bonum. Mind it while you have Time.

For everything, everywhere, always is undone.

And the tide is coming in.

I’m excited to announce that the first episode of the Hardcore Happiness podcast will be distributed on July 31st! Stay tuned and follow my Instagram feed (link below) for more info as we get closer!

To learn more about how to use these concepts or to inquire about working with me, you can contact me on the Hardcore Happiness website, the comments section on my Substack or Medium accounts or the Hardcore Happiness blog page. If you have found value in this article, follow my Instagram account for daily insights, or my X account for occasional tweets. To support this community, you can donate through my Patreon account.

- JWW

Crossroads

Jeff W Welsh — Mon, 21 Jul 2025 20:17:28 GMT

“Sorry,” he said, “sorry,” as he wedged himself between my window seat overlooking the sea and the wall outlet destined to recharge his phone.

He then sat at my table, directly across from my steaming bowl of clam chowder, eliciting a stern, “That man is already sitting at that table!” from the server.

“D’you mind if I sit here?”

Between his salt-and-pepper beard and worn ball cap, blue eyes regarded me with caution, narrowed against the incoming sting of rejection.

Alcohol, as they say, was a factor, but his face spoke of sadness and fear more than whisky. He held a paper cup of coffee protectively, with both hands.

“Not at all,” I said, “Where are you from?”

“El Paso,” he said, in a strong North London accent.

“I’m originally from England,” he hesitated, “between London and Oxford.” Nervous, now, looking at the table.

“Ah.” “Yeah, I didn’t hear much Texan in there,” I smiled.

Then, a rapid fusillade of explanations, trying to get it all out before he got cut off. Hoping to be heard.

“I met the most beautiful girl in El Paso; the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. She runs the family business. I love Texas! She has long hair and big…well, y’know… She’s the first Hispanic girl I ever talked to. And can you believe this? She said she really liked me! I never expected her to really like me. I really love El Paso. But I’m afraid to go back there. Have you ever not wanted to go back somewhere?”

“For sure,” I told him. “Many times. But it sounds like you need to go back to El Paso.”

“You reckon?” “You reckon I should?” He was clearly excited to hear someone validate his dream, but the excitement faded as he went on:

“But I can’t. My dad died. I was trying to get back there; I was at LAX trying to fly in…”

“Heathrow?”

“Yea, Heath… No; Gatwick.”

“A lot less hectic than Heathrow, isn’t it?”

“I was at LAX and, and I had…a panic attack, I guess. My whole body was shaking—I’ve never experienced something like that before—and I didn’t know what was happening. That’s when they took me to the fucking hospital. I told them I needed to get back; my dad died!”

“How long were you in there?”

“I wasn’t! In and right back out. I wasn’t one of those 51…10s or what ever they’re called, so they didn’t keep me. They couldn’t keep me. And now I’m here…and I don’t know what to do. Do you have a girlfriend? A wife?"

"I did," I said, "for 30 years."

"I'm sorry. Did she pass?"

“She left," I told him. "You’re a long way from LA. How did you end up here?”

“My cousin lives here. I was staying here. You should hang out with us; play some pool or some such!”

“Your cousin sounds like a great guy.”

“No, that’s my cousin’s boyfriend. You guys would get along. I was staying with Sheryl, my cousin. Maybe we can hang about tomorrow…”

The server had come by to collect the now empty chowder bowl, and I asked her to put my new friend’s expensive coffee on my ticket.

“Can I ask you something,” he said, “what’s your name?”

“I’m Jeff.”

“What d'you do?”

“Until recently, I was a professor and counselor at a college. I’m retired now, so I write.”

“What was your subject?”

“I taught psychology and sociology.”

He chuckled. “I guess I could use some psychology.”

“I think we all could, from time to time.”

A moment of silence, and he went on: “In my 42 years, I never expected the things that have happened to me. I mean, my life has been pretty crazy but nothing like this. It doesn’t make any sense; you wouldn’t even believe me…”

I looked at him, lost in his thoughts, then interrupted: “What’s your name?”

“Cob.”

“What did you do in England?”

“I was an apple grower.” A faint smile; pride, and maybe, regret?

A beat, and then:

“Let me see my phone, Jeff, I have something to show you.”

I unplugged the phone and handed it to him; there wasn’t enough room for him to squeeze back in next to me to retrieve it.

“You’ve been very kind to me so I want to give you…where is it…I had it…” A minute or so of frantic scrolling, then, “Anyway…”

He put the phone down and looked directly into my eyes. I waited.

“I’m afraid,” he said, finally.

I reached over to shake his hand; he responded with a “bro" grip.

“Listen to me,” I told him. “Cob, I believe in you.”

His eyes started to well up as I put my other hand on his.

“Remember this: we aren’t defined by what happens to us. What makes us who we are is how we bounce back. You are at a crossroads in your life right now and I know it’s scary and confusing. But I believe in you. I know that if you stay sober and put your mind to it, you will come out of this all right; you will figure it all out. You’re going to be ok.”

Cob wasn’t able to speak, tears falling down into his beard. So he just started at me; that stare that people have when they dare to hope but are afraid it will be suddenly snatched away from them. Again.

I held his gaze and his hand until I could see he believed me, then I stood to go.

“Hey,” I said, “Don’t forget your charger.”

And I walked out into the low, gathering clouds on their way to becoming the coastal fog that obscures the boundary between here and there.

I’m excited to announce that the first episode of the Hardcore Happiness podcast will be distributed on July 31st! Stay tuned and follow my Instagram feed for more info as we get closer!

To learn more about how to use these concepts or to inquire about working with me, you can contact me on the Hardcore Happiness website, the comments section on my Substack or Medium accounts or the Hardcore Happiness blog page. If you have found value in this article, follow my Instagram account for daily insights, or my X account for occasional tweets. To support this community, you can donate through my Patreon account.

- JWW

Are You Serious?

Jeff W Welsh — Mon, 07 Jul 2025 23:30:18 GMT

What would increase your well-being and satisfaction? More health? More wealth? Better relationships? Whether you want fame and fortune or just peace and quiet, it all starts with one question: Are you serious?

Cost

We live in a zero-sum energy world. The law of the conservation of energy states that energy cannot be created from nothing, nor can it be destroyed; it can only change form. Everything that you want—everything that you are—requires energy. This means that you have to put in exactly as much energy as it takes to do whatever it is you want to do.

In other, simpler words, nothing is free.

Take the simple act of walking. It requires a certain amount of energy for your muscles to move you forward over the ground. The cells of your body have to create exactly that much energy or you would not be able to walk (i.e. if your Tesla runs out of charge, it’s not going anywhere).

The same concept is true for thinking and sleeping and applying for a job and going on a date and every other thought and action. It even requires a substantial amount of energy to just lie in a bed in a coma.

This is the basic concept of weight loss through exercise, as well: when your exercise requires more energy than you took in through eating, your body will find other places to get the extra energy. One of the most readily available energy sources is the fat that your body stores. If you burn more calories than you eat, your body will metabolize that fat to create the additional energy.

This is all probably pretty obvious: Energy = Results. Always. Everywhere.

Whatever it is that you want costs exactly the amount of energy needed for it to materialize. You don’t pay up, it ain’t happenin’.

Currency

Before you consider the MSRP, begin to count steps, or calculate the airfare to your destination, you must consider the basic unit of currency for everything that you want.

Beneath the dollars and Deutsche marks, the yen and euros and pounds sterling, there is a more fundamental unit of exchange. For you to manifest anything in the world, you must take action. And the primary unit of currency, the cost of action, is discipline.

Let’s start with the simple stuff.

If you want to get in better physical shape, you have to exercise. But it starts long before you get on the treadmill or in the pool or hit the trail. You have to get out of bed and get dressed and get yourself to the place of your planned exercise, whether it’s on top of a mountain or in the next room (OK, if you are only going to the next room, you may not have to get dressed, but you get my point).

Not because you are “feeling” it.

Not because you want to.

Not because you are motivated, today, to make it happen.

Not because you are well rested or in a good mood.

You do it because you said you would (even if only to yourself) and it’s time to do it.

You take the action because you made a commitment and you are a person of integrity. Because you keep your word.

Perhaps you say you want to stop eating refined sugar. How can you do this?

Stop. Eating. Sugar.

That’s it; that’s the whole (sugar-free) enchilada.

Don’t read about not eating sugar; don’t talk about abstaining from sugar. Just stop eating it.

Walk past the big pink box of doughnuts at work. Change from mocha lattes to iced tea. Cease the sugary cereals and move away from the muffins. Snack on unbuttered popcorn, if snack you must, and substitute beef for bonbons. Whatever floats your culinary boat, as long as it doesn’t contain refined sugar.

Take the action because you made the decision.

It’s all about discipline.

Complexity

Here’s a more complex example.

Let’s suppose that you want a better situation in your professional life. More money, more prestige, better working conditions, an office with a view, less asshole bosses. Maybe all of the above.

This also starts with a decision to effect change in your life, but that decision leads to thousands of other decisions and most significantly, requires the ability to delay gratification.

Your path to better compensation and improved working conditions may necessitate a college degree. If you are in the trades, you may have to endure the traditional trek from apprentice to journeyman. If you’re fortunate enough to be engaged in the family business, you should probably learn the millions of nuances—from P&L statements and EBITA to customer service and distribution—that it takes to make a profit and stay in business.

The common thread here is that it is not going to happen overnight. Probably not even this year. Maybe not even this decade.

You see where we are going with this.

Here’s another one, much more involved and incalculably more difficult.

Perhaps you want a relationship. Like a permanent, ride-or-die, until-death-do-us-part kind of relationship.

Like all actions, this one starts with a decision. A decision to share your life with another human. So you expend the energy (it’s all energy, remember?) to swallow your pride and contain your fear and you start dating.

And dating, as we all have learned, leads to disappointment and heartbreak and betrayal. But you persevere and finally—after many false starts and massive expense (in every sense of the term), and much pain and learning—you find The One.

Then, after a lifetime of support and love, The One walks from your life without explanation. And you learn what “disappointment and heartbreak and betrayal” really means.

Now the decision has gone from trivial (“Should I buy that TV?”) to life-threatening (“Should I go on?”).

But the song remains the same. Do you have the discipline to carry on? To commit—with action, not just words—to the decision to keep on keeping on?

It is all so much simpler—and infinitely more complex—than most people imagine. It really all comes down to one question:

Are You Serious?

Can you commit to the decision to be happy? To have a better life?

Will you direct your energy to the actions it will take to move toward your goals? Or will you just talk about it?

Are you serious enough about your existence to intentionally choose your purpose, then pursue it even in the face of loss and disillusionment? Even if it takes a lifetime?

Being happy is sometimes the hardest thing you can ever do.

But it’s always worth it, in the long run.

It’s why you’re here.

Click here to get my free Introduction to the Three Pillars of a happy life!

To learn more about how to use these concepts or to inquire about working with me, you can contact me on the Hardcore Happiness website, the comments section on my Substack or Medium accounts or the Hardcore Happiness blog page. If you have found value in this article, follow my Instagram account for daily insights, or my X account for occasional tweets. To support this community, you can donate through my Patreon account.

- JWW