happiness

When did slowing down become such a crime? It seems as if at every turn, the world is screaming at us: push harder, demand more, settle for less. After winning the 2025 Australian Open, tennis champion Jannik Sinner was inundated with questions about his future goals and upcoming tournaments by journalists. The not-so-subtle subtext? “Now what’s next?” Mere minutes after Mikey Madison won her Academy Award for Best Actress in Anora, she was immediately hounded by the press about her future plans and next projects. Finally, she replied:

"I've been thinking about the future a lot and also the past. I've been really trying to remind myself to stay as present as possible throughout all of this, so I don't know. I really don't know what will happen in the future. I just want to keep making movies and continue to work with people who inspire me and play interesting characters, tell stories that are compelling."

In a culture obsessed with moving at a lightning speed, young people in South Korea are fed up. In the words of Bartleby, the Scrivener, they'd "rather not." Instead, they're choosing a different path, one that's unhurried and geared towards gratefulness. They call it ‘sohwakhaeng’ (소확행), a philosophy that's deceptively simple yet profound, that challenges our very notion of happiness.

A contraction of the words “small” (소), “certain” (확실한), and “happiness” (행복), ‘sohwakhaeng’ roughly translates to “small but certain happiness.” The concept was lifted from Japanese author Haruki Murakami’s 1986 essay, “Afternoon in the Islets of Langerhans,” in which he describes discovering delight in the tiniest, most unexpected places: a freshly baked loaf of bread, torn into using one's hands; neatly folded underwear; new shirts that smell like clean cotton.

Sohwakhaeng’s message is simple: joy is always around us. We just need to train ourselves to recognize it. How? Start by being intentional. Slow down, notice your surroundings, and savor this one precious moment. Remember that you are alive. Then, contentment will come. Sohwakhaeng guarantees it, no matter how minuscule or trivial the event may seem.

Sohwakhaeng can take many forms. It can look like your favorite tea, warmed and steeped in your favorite mug, enjoyed while staring out the window on a snowy winter’s day. It could be a gratitude journal, written nightly using the smooth, metallic pen you saved up for months to buy. A small prayer that precedes a meal. There aren't many rules when it comes to sohwakhaeng. It can be anything, really. The key is mindfulness, living in the present, and noticing all the small joys of life that all too often pass us by. It’s like Jack’s famous song in the musical Into the Woods, when, after scurrying down the giant beanstalk, he marvels at everything below him, seeing for the very first time everything he once took for granted.

“The roof, the house and your Mother at the door The roof, the house and the world you never thought to explore...”

Joy's always there, if we just learn how to look for it. Photo credit: Canva

In South Korea’s fast-paced, high-pressure society, sohwakhaeng has become more than just a feel-good philosophy but a life-saving raft, especially among young people. The country has become consumed by "pali pali" (빨리빨리), or "hurry hurry" culture—a turbocharged approach to life that South Koreans simultaneously wear as a badge of honor and deeply resent. “Pali pali” has become the nation’s ethos, where speed, efficiency, and rapid progress must be prioritized at all costs.

It's no surprise that South Korean citizens are turning to sohwakhaeng in droves, seeking an antidote to their country’s distressing emphasis on lightning speed, efficiency, and promptness above all else. This culture of ultra-productivity, although effective in its own way, is taking its toll on South Korea's citizens: Seoul's suicide rates are increasing rapidly among the elderly, young adults, and even teenagers, with many citing depression, substance abuse, chronic illness, economic hardship, emotional distress, and trauma. According to the Korea Herald, experts have been raising the alarm for years about the increasing burdens of the country's unsustainable work conditions, exorbitant housing costs, and overwhelming responsibilities, which have also led to the country’s rapidly declining birth rates.

It's a bit grim, to put it lightly. And, in response, malaise-stricken Millennials and Zoomers have begun calling themselves the “n-Po generation," where “n” represents exponential growth, and “Po” comes from the Korean word for “give up.” They've given up to the nth degree.

Even Novak Djokovic agrees: Don't give up. Giphy

There is hope, however. Alongside the n-Po and 4B movements in South Korea, Sohwakhaeng has become a significant theme on social media, with hundreds of thousands of posts bearing the hashtag “#소확행.” Here, you’ll find Korean citizens reveling in the mundanity of life, as is the case with Instagram star @Salguzzam, who posted a wonderfully simple photo of her daily meal, writing, “In the morning, as I eat the abalone porridge that my mother-in-law set out for me, I’m feeling happy. I haven’t even tasted the apricot jam, but I’m finishing the whole pot of porridge by myself.”

Sohwakhaeng has even moved beyond the Internet, with IKEA Korea offering “home party boxes” accompanied by the theme, “Perfection is Unnecessary, Share Delicious Time Together.” Boxes contain various items for cooking, planting, and decorating at home, and are designed specifically to elicit joy without stressing perfection. The Swedish furniture and home goods store partnered with South Korean pop star Henry Lau to create these imperfectly perfect boxes. In a statement, Lau remarked: “I collaborated with IKEA for this event because I often have a home party with my friends and also huge interest in home furnishing including interior design,” adding, “The way to enjoy home parties more easily and pleasantly is to be free from any pressure for perfect preparations.”

Are there ways to incorporate sohwakhaeng into your life today? For Kim Tae-hee, an office worker in Korea, inspiration comes naturally because it’s “simple and ordinary.” If you're having trouble, think small: search for a delicious whiff that reminds you of childhood or the spark of a feeling no words could ever do justice to. Call an old friend, just because you miss their voice; marvel at a well-written sentence in the book you're reading. Perhaps there's a tree that seems to wave to you right outside the bedroom window. Maybe today, you wave back.

Sohwakhaeng asks, "What could be more radical than finding divinity in a cup of coffee?" Today, there are limitless opportunities to find small but certain happiness. You just have to know where to look.