In the Andes, and especially for paqos, a primary, if not the primary, goal of life is to achieve sumaq kawsay, which means, among other things, “living a good life.” Sumaq means good, nice, or happy. Kawsay means to live, to be alive. Other ways of saying this include kusisqa kawsay, which means to have a happy life; and allin kawsay: to live the right kind of life or a life of goodness.

What does living a good life mean? Most of us aspire to do just that, although what it means is personal to each of us. What do you mean when you say, “I want to live a good life”? Have you ever stopped to consider this question with specifics instead of abstractions?

The article in the sentence matters. Living a good life implies something significantly different (in English vernacular) from living the good life.

The good life most often implies pleasure, leisure, freedom to do as we want, money, travel, adventure, expensive or quality possessions, significant accomplishments that confer status and draw the respect or even envy of others, and other such material and emotional characteristics and qualities. Generally speaking, the good life tends to be judged as a superficial life. Yet, if we are being truthful, most of us (maybe only secretly) aspire to attaining it for ourselves.

A good life, in contrast, tends to be described as one that includes having loving family relationships and friendships, caring for and displaying kindness toward others (and others doing the same toward us), an enriching spiritual or religious practice, productive and satisfying work, financial and emotional security, laughter and lightheartedness, and, perhaps most importantly, a sense arising from the core of our souls that we matter as individuals and that our lives have meaning.

I could, of course, have described both the good life and a good life in myriad ways, but the lists of qualities I have mentioned above suffice to make the point that at first glance we tend to judge living a good life as more valuable than living the good life, although we may also think, quite rightfully, that there is no reason we cannot choose to have both. In the Andean tradition, there is no moral overlay on energy, so we can direct energy to influence the kawsay pacha to manifest both.

Still, there is often quite a stark contrast between the two concepts of life. Even Aristotle made a distinction. He used the term eudaimonia (u-da-MON-e-ah) to refer to a good life, in contrast to the word hedonia (from which we get the English words hedonism and hedonistic), which refers to the good life. This distinction was discussed by Robert Walkinger, PhD, and Marc Schulz, PhD, in their recent book Good Life: Lessons from the World’s Longest Scientific Study of Happiness. They write that eudaimonia “refers to a state of deep well-being in which a person feels that their life has meaning and purpose. It is often contrasted with hedonia . . ., which refers to the fleeting happiness of various pleasures. To put it another way, if hedonic happiness is what you mean when you say you’re having a good time, then eudaimonic happiness is what we mean when we say life is good. It is a sense that, outside of this moment, regardless of how pleasurable or miserable it is, your life is worth something, and valuable to you. It is a kind of well-being that can endure through both the ups and the downs.” [italics in the original]

The authors discuss what a “good” life means in terms of assessing our state of happiness (or lack thereof). It is not surprising to learn that money, possessions, status, and such are not reliable markers of happiness. Instead, these and other researchers say that the most important factors in our deep-down, long-term happiness are the robustness and richness of our personal relationships.

It might surprise you, as it did me, that this research finding about the importance of relationships in the equation of happiness and living a good life is imbedded in the very meaning of the word “good.” Even though the modern definitions of good are broad and varied, they tend to cluster around qualities such as preferrable, pleasant, pleasing, enjoyable, satisfying, admirable, positive, superior, morally upstanding, ethical, and worthy. But this cluster of meanings is nothing like the cluster of meanings from the possible roots of the word “good.” Although the word “good” has an uncertain etymology, it can be traced to roots that generally mean “to fit together,” or “to belong together.” Examples include the Proto-Indo-European root ghedh, which means “to unite” or “to be associated with,” and the possible root gōdal, from the Proto-Germanic, which means “fitting together.” It also has a connection to the Old English word gædrian, meaning “to gather” and “to take up together.”

So a “good life” is not about me, but we. The quality of our social connections appears to be the most reliable indicator of our overall well-being: from the way we rank our own level of happiness, to how we see the world (from a glass half full or half empty perspective), to how we find meaning in life, to the state of our long-term health and even the probable length of our lives. We do not have to have a lot of relationships; a few will do. What matters is that those we do have are stable and fulfilling—with people we trust, can rely on and confide in, and can be our “true” self with—and for whom we provide the same level of intimate emotional stability, availability, and honesty.

The questions that arise for each of us are “Do I have the relationships that fulfill me, support me, ground me, and lift me?” and, of course, in the spirit of ayni, “Am I there for others to fulfill, support, ground, and lift them?” We flourish when we are in relationships that not only are emotionally secure, but also emotionally varied. One person might be our safe harbor from the storms of life, providing the respite and rest we need before reengaging. Another might be our complementary opposite—our yanantin—pushing us (through the example of who they are and how they engage life) past our own self-imposed boundaries and restrictions. Maybe the best friend for a serious scholar or driven businessperson is someone who was the class clown. Perhaps the urban wild child and the conventional suburbanite will appreciate the way that together they create a happy medium in the middle emotional realms. The relationships of the highest value in terms of our living from our Inka Seeds in a “good and happy life” are not necessarily with those people who are like us, but those who—with humility and yet confidence, and in safety yet also with a touch of restlessness and even abandon—help us get in touch with and tease out of hibernation the novel yet natural aspects of ourselves that we are not yet able or willing to express. Of course, developing such relationships is only half the equation. The other half is our making such contributions to the other people in our relationships. And also valuing those people enough to sustain and nourish the relationship—to make it a priority so that it continues to bloom. Moving away, having kids, and such are not reasons for a valued relationship to wither. Gratitude, nurturing, appreciation, love—they defy time and space.

The foundation of our relationships with others starts with our relationship with ourselves. We may not yet love ourselves, but we can work to befriend ourselves—all aspects of ourselves. Some psychologists identify three types of happiness, which apply to three different aspects of life. They don’t identify these three aspects of life as relating to our inner life, but that is how I see them and their value. There is the happiness generated by living a “pleasant life,” which is one in which we feel safe, competent, and connected, so that despite life’s slings and arrows our engagement in life is fueled mostly through our positive emotions and ability to see the good in others. There is a “good life,” which is one in which we feel satisfaction, value, and self-worth through our interactions and engagements—in relationships, work, and leisure pursuits. And there is a “meaningful life,” which is one in which we see beyond our own self-interest, where we develop and apply our moral or ethical values and express our unique combination of capacities to serve others or champion causes that benefit others.

I see these three types of happiness and three domains of life as arising from what in the Andean tradition we would call the three human powers, which are capacities common to all of us. One power is our yachay—our ability to learn and grow through our first-hand experiences and to express ourselves with truth and integrity based on how we see the world through the sum of those life experiences. Another is our munay—our feelings, and our capacity to love ourselves and others even as we acknowledge our own and their faults and frailties. And there is llank’ay, our ability to take action, to participate in the world with both purpose and playfulness, and to marshal the motivation to leave our world a better place (no matter how limited or circumscribed our reach is). Ideally, over time we are consciously refining these three aspects of ourselves, and thus increasingly enriching all aspects of our life in the process. In the Andean tradition this is phutuy, the “flowering” of our Inka Seed.

If as practitioners of the Andean mystical path, we are (like both Andean people at large and paqos) seeking to achieve sumaq kawsay—to live a good life—then we would do well to slow down and drop in to decide what a good life, a happy life, a meaningful life means to us and looks like to us. While your idea of what constitutes a good, happy, and meaningful life may be quite different from anyone else’s idea of that, I am confident that we all share one core disposition: if we are not feeling the good, happy, and meaningful in our present lives, it is unlikely we will recognize—of feel—those qualities at any stage of our lives in the future. We can aspire to be happier and live a more fulfilling life, but the truth is that we are living a life of some measure of goodness, happiness, and meaning right now. These qualities cannot be “out there” in some unforeseeable future, if they are not already energies embedded in and enabling us today.

Therefore, a powerful spiritual practice for living a good, happy, and meaningful life—for realizing sumaq kawsay—is not only counting the blessings we feel we have received already, but also actively fostering the relationships and engaging in the activities by which blessings continually flow both from us and to us. For, as American fiction writer Margaret Bonanno so succinctly and wisely reminds us, “It is only possible to live happily ever after on a daily basis.”