Chasing Virtue in a Hustle-Fueled World
the short essay I submitted for my Ancient and Medieval Philosophy class. we talked about Aristotle's version of happiness, here's my response
Aristotle defines happiness, or eudaimonia, as “the activity of the soul in accordance with excellence.” To him, happiness isn’t a fleeting emotion or passive state, but an active process: living in alignment with your best self, through the consistent expression of virtues. It’s not just about feeling good; it’s about being good, fulfilling your function as a human being. In theory, it’s beautiful. In practice, I find it deeply challenging, especially in the context of modern life.
If I had to define happiness for myself right now, I’d say it’s being the person I promised myself I would be. It’s waking up, seeing the goals I set, and checking them off one by one, not just for the sake of achievement, but to prove to myself that I’m capable of discipline, drive, and intentionality. But here’s the catch: most days I don’t live up to that ideal. I fall short. I procrastinate. I self-loathe. And when that happens, happiness collapses into guilt. If Aristotle is right, that true happiness comes from excellent activity, then I’m constantly in and out of happiness, depending on how well I perform. That’s a lot of pressure to place on the soul.
I do relate to Aristotle’s framing, though. I’ve felt the specific kind of happiness that comes not from comfort, but from doing hard things well, like editing sessions with friends where we’re all locked in, feeding off each other’s drive, building something that matters. There’s a type of soul-fulfillment there that no mindless entertainment can replace. But I also think Aristotle’s view assumes a kind of stability and privilege many people today don’t have. Some of us don’t get to live according to our soul’s excellence, we’re just trying to survive. The world doesn’t pause for philosophical self-actualization. And still, maybe that’s why I admire his view: because it calls us upward, even when life pulls us down.
In contrast, I think most of us today, myself included, chase a kind of hustle-happiness. We measure joy in checklists, in productivity, in fleeting recognition. And when that productivity comes with views, likes, and visibility, it tastes even sweeter. But the crash that comes from falling short is brutal. I’ve placed so much of my identity into succeeding that when I don’t, I feel like I’ve failed at being me. Aristotle might say I’ve tied my soul to unstable ends, outcomes instead of virtues, and he’d probably be right. What I need isn’t fewer goals, but a better relationship to failure. A more grounded understanding of happiness that isn’t shaken every time I miss the mark.
If I could talk to Aristotle, I wouldn’t argue with him. I’d ask him to give a workshop. Because we don’t need more advice, we need more hands-on help in identifying and practicing our virtues. Just starting feels hard. But maybe in this very act, in writing this reflection, in asking these questions, I’m already doing what Aristotle called for: exercising the soul’s function through thoughtful activity. And if happiness is messy, unpredictable, and often disappointing, maybe that’s okay. Because what matters most is that we’re still trying. Still aiming toward something better. Still becoming the people we promised ourselves we’d be.