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When I turned 60, I decided to run a little experiment on myself. For six months, I tracked everything that genuinely lifted my mood… not what I thought should make me happy, but what actually did.
I’d been reading about happiness research for years, writing about it, even teaching others about it. But something shifted when I hit this milestone. Maybe it was becoming a father to my daughter recently, or maybe it was just the natural reflection that comes with age. Either way, I wanted hard data on my own happiness.
So I kept a simple journal. Every evening, I’d note what brought me genuine joy that day. No judgment, no filtering, just honest observation.
The results? They knocked me sideways.
Half the things I’d been chasing for decades barely registered. Meanwhile, activities I’d dismissed as trivial turned out to be happiness goldmines. Here are the nine discoveries that surprised me most.
1) Doing absolutely nothing productive
For most of my life, I’ve been obsessed with productivity. Every moment needed to be optimized, every hour accounted for.
But you know what consistently showed up in my happiness tracking? The times I sat on my balcony in Saigon, watching the chaotic ballet of motorbikes below, doing absolutely nothing of value.
No podcast playing. No book in hand. Just me, a cup of coffee, and the beautiful randomness of life unfolding.
These “wasted” moments scored higher on my happiness scale than most of my achievements. Turns out the brain needs these pockets of nothingness to process, integrate, and simply be.
Who knew that after decades of hustling, the secret was to occasionally stop trying so hard?
2) Having the same conversations over and over
I used to dread repetitive conversations. You know the ones: discussing the weather with your neighbor for the hundredth time, hearing the same stories from old friends.
But tracking revealed something unexpected: these “boring” exchanges were happiness triggers.
There’s something deeply comforting about conversational rituals. They’re social glue, creating connection without the pressure of being witty or profound.
In my book “Hidden Secrets of Buddhism: How To Live With Maximum Impact and Minimum Ego”, I write about the Buddhist concept of “beginner’s mind.” Turns out, bringing fresh attention to familiar conversations transforms them into something surprisingly nourishing.
Now when my Vietnamese mother-in-law tells me about her morning market trip for the third time this week, I listen like it’s breaking news. Because in a way, it is, it’s the news of human connection happening right now.
3) Physical discomfort (in small doses)
This one really threw me. Cold showers, challenging bike rides through Saigon traffic, sitting in meditation when my legs were screaming, these moments of controlled discomfort consistently boosted my happiness.
Not during the discomfort, mind you. But immediately after.
There’s something about voluntarily choosing difficulty that makes everything else feel easier. It’s like resetting your comfort baseline. Suddenly, a regular shower feels luxurious. A simple chair feels like a throne.
The key word here is “voluntary.” Forced discomfort doesn’t have the same effect. But when you choose to be uncomfortable for a few minutes each day, it somehow makes you more comfortable with life itself.
4) Fixing broken things
I’m not particularly handy. Growing up with two brothers in Melbourne, I was always the one more likely to be reading than fixing bikes.
But my tracking revealed that every time I repaired something: a wobbly table, a stuck drawer, a glitchy app on my phone, my happiness spiked.
There’s something primal about solving tangible problems. In a world of abstract challenges and unsolvable complexities, fixing a leaky faucet feels like a small victory against entropy.
Plus, every fixed object becomes a little monument to your competence. Months later, you’ll use that previously broken thing and feel a tiny surge of satisfaction.
5) Canceling plans
Okay, this might make me sound antisocial, but hear me out.
Some of my highest happiness scores came from canceling plans I’d reluctantly agreed to. Not important commitments or time with loved ones — but those obligatory events that you say yes to out of guilt or FOMO.
The relief was instantaneous and the recovered time felt like found money.
The surprise wasn’t that canceling felt good, it was how consistently it appeared in my data. It made me realize how much energy I was spending on activities that didn’t align with what actually mattered to me.
6) Reading books I’ve already read
I’ve always prided myself on reading widely, constantly seeking new ideas and perspectives. My shelves are packed with unread books calling my name.
But you know what made me consistently happy? Rereading old favorites.
There’s zero pressure with a familiar book. No need to concentrate hard or worry about missing important points. It’s like visiting an old friend — comfortable, reliable, surprisingly refreshing.
I’ve probably read certain Buddhist texts a dozen times now. Each reading reveals something new, not because the book changed, but because I have. It’s one of the concepts I explore in “Hidden Secrets of Buddhism”, how repetition can be a doorway to deeper understanding.
7) Writing by hand
In our digital age, handwriting feels almost rebellious. It’s slow, inefficient, and my handwriting looks like a caffeinated spider fell in ink.
Yet my happiness tracking showed that journaling by hand, writing letters, even making handwritten lists, consistently lifted my mood more than their digital equivalents.
There’s something about the physical act, the pen on paper, the slight resistance, the inability to delete, that makes thoughts feel more real. It forces you to slow down, to be intentional with each word.
My daily meditation practice has taught me the value of slowing down, but I never expected that principle to apply to something as simple as writing a grocery list.
8) Saying no to good opportunities
This one stung a bit. I found that turning down genuinely good opportunities often made me happier than saying yes to them.
A speaking engagement that would look great on my bio? A collaboration with someone impressive? An invitation to an exclusive event? Saying no to these things frequently appeared in my happiness highlights.
It’s not about being ungrateful or unambitious. It’s about recognizing that every yes is also a no to something else, usually to time with my daughter, my daily bike ride, or those precious moments of doing nothing.
Good opportunities are everywhere. Time and energy are not.
9) Small, unnecessary generosities
The final surprise was how much happiness came from tiny acts of generosity that nobody asked for or expected.
Buying coffee for the person behind me. Sending a random “thinking of you” message to an old friend. Over-tipping the delivery driver during a thunderstorm.
These weren’t grand gestures or tax-deductible donations. They were small, spontaneous, and often anonymous. Yet they consistently produced happiness spikes that lasted hours.
What surprised me wasn’t that giving felt good, everyone knows that. It was that the smallest, most spontaneous acts had the biggest impact on my mood. Planning generosity didn’t have the same effect. It was the spontaneous impulse, acted upon immediately, that created the magic.
Final words
After six months of tracking, I realized something profound: most of what made me happy after 60 had been available to me all along. I just hadn’t been paying attention.
We spend so much time chasing big goals, thinking happiness lives on the other side of achievement. But my data told a different story. Happiness was hiding in the margins, in cancelled plans and cold showers, in repetitive conversations and rereading old books.
The real surprise wasn’t what made me happy. It was how simple it all was.
Maybe that’s the gift of getting older. You finally stop chasing what you think should make you happy and start noticing what actually does.
What would your list look like if you tracked your genuine happiness for six months? My guess is you’d be just as surprised as I was.
