Howard Gardner, in Frames of Mind, proposed several branches of human intelligence in his theory of multiple intelligences. One of these is intrapersonal intelligence.
This form of intelligence enables a person to perceive the laws of the external world, to notice and reflect upon the phenomena of their own body and mind, and to analyze and understand them deeply. It is especially prominent in philosophers, thinkers, and novelists. Philosophers such as Plato, Laozi, and Zhuangzi all possessed this gift to a remarkable degree.
This trait determines that when such a person evaluates or observes a phenomenon,
first, they do not take fame, profit, or wealth as the primary standard;
second, they do not remain at the level of superficial appearances.
Although Schopenhauer appeared to have little interest in fame or wealth, he cared deeply about happiness. He devoted a great deal of time to observing and contemplating it. Yet before happiness comes the awareness of suffering. In On the Suffering of the World and related writings, he discusses this theme extensively.
From his observations, our awareness of pain and happiness has a particular nature:
Like flowing water—when it moves smoothly, there are no ripples unless it meets an obstacle. When our bodies are healthy and free of pain, we do not notice them. Instead, we may feel deeply annoyed by something as trivial as tight shoes. In other words, the things that truly make us comfortable and happy often pass unnoticed, while trivial matters provoke disproportionate frustration—even anger.
Put simply: only after losing one’s legs would one realize how joyful it is to run freely. Yet when we possess them, we worry that they are too fat or not well-shaped.
Thus, when you feel unfortunate, looking at those less fortunate may reveal how much you still possess—and that life is, in fact, not so bad.
But without introspection, we fail to perceive these patterns and cannot apply this wisdom to ourselves. We then easily fall into the “suffering of existence”:
If you lack the inward awareness to see the state of your own mind and how external conditions deceive you, two enemies of happiness inevitably appear—pain and boredom, standing in opposition.
Pain arises directly from wounds or scarcity; this is undeniable. Even Schopenhauer had to accept it. Yet when wounds and scarcity are absent, another form of suffering emerges: boredom.
While the poor struggle painfully for survival, boredom torments another group—the wealthy. Though their pockets are full, they cannot feel joy, having fallen into the abyss of boredom. To escape, they travel endlessly, seek stimulation, indulge in luxury, alcohol, drugs, and chaotic parties—attempts to flee emptiness. Newspapers often record the tragic outcomes. Without awareness, the result is either tragedy or a life already shattered.
Life, then, is like a pendulum swinging between pain and boredom. Escape one, and you approach the other. Meanwhile, life itself slips away.
Having perceived this suffering, Schopenhauer sought a way out of the pendulum. First, he believed most people do not truly know themselves—let alone the laws of the world.
In The Wisdom of Life, he reexamines what we call happiness:
“In the end, man must rely on himself.” — Goethe
“Wherever we are, we must create and discover happiness within ourselves.” — Goldsmith
“Happiness depends upon ourselves.” — Aristotle
“The happy life consists in tranquility of mind.” — Cicero
Across philosophy, happiness consistently points inward. Schopenhauer agreed—and, like Aristotle, recognized its impermanence:
“All sources of happiness are uncertain, insecure, fleeting, and accidental.”
Because happiness depends on many conditions, seeking it externally leads to rapid exhaustion.
Thus, Schopenhauer warned against letting joy depend on wealth, praise, applause, or vulgar desires. He advised:
Never sacrifice the inner self for the outer world.
Do not exchange peace, leisure, and independence for honor, status, titles, or fame.
For him, solitude was precious. Happiness originates within. Only spiritual richness prevents boredom; living thought never runs dry. The more we rely on thought, the greater our joy.
External happiness, by contrast, inevitably brings loss and anxiety—just as we ignore a healthy body but notice tight shoes.
If a young person quickly masters social maneuvering and worldly success, they may already believe happiness is something obtained from outside. To Schopenhauer, this is not wisdom but mediocrity—another swing of the pendulum between pain and boredom.
Yet moral failure does not arise from lack of intelligence. Schopenhauer argued this clearly in On the Primacy of the Will in Self-Consciousness.
The real danger lies elsewhere: civilization resembles a grand masquerade. People wear elegant masks to maneuver for advantage, driven by greed and calculation.
Schopenhauer insisted:
The primary element of happiness is character.
He urged people to see through the masquerade—the wax fruit, silk flowers, and empty laughter. When a young person masters these masks too early, it is a troubling sign.
“He who lacks the spirit of his age will suffer its misfortunes.” — Voltaire
Schopenhauer agreed. Youth is valuable because early life feels intensely vivid. One must pass through illusion and painful awakening to understand reality.
Some awaken and abandon fantasy, moving toward genuine happiness. But if youth is taught that the world stands ready to reward them, they quickly chase fame and profit, drifting from spiritual wealth and living within the pendulum of suffering.
Thus, when a young person appears awkward or surprised by society, it may signal nobility—honesty, curiosity, sincerity—rather than foolishness.
Three key ideas define Schopenhauer’s view of happiness:
- A great folly is seeking happiness in others’ opinions rather than in oneself.
- Sacrificing health or character for external gain leads inevitably to tragedy.
- Personality and spiritual life are the primary paths to happiness—the more one thinks, the happier one becomes.
Though wise and influential, Schopenhauer remained human, living a lonely life with personal contradictions. Such tension between intellect, morality, and character is a profound question across cultures and eras.
Yet he persistently stepped outside illusion, examined life’s harsh truth, and sought genuine happiness. What appears pessimistic is, in fact, courageous honesty—an effort to free the mind from deception and move toward real fulfillment.
Do not let the age meant for insight and reflection be blinded by worldly appearances.
And remember: philosophical ideas are not absolute truth—but noble character is a real and universal source of happiness.
Natalie Feng 
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