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1106 Design, LLC

Dear Author,

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eBooks2go

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eBooks2go, Inc. was founded in 2011 to provide the missing link for all your publishing needs. Our end-to-end solutions provide the guidance and support that enable publishers and independent authors to pursue their passions. To date, we have helped more than 1,000 authors and 250 publishers worldwide. We offer an array of simple and affordable solutions to assist self-publishing authors at every stage of the book publishing process. Our comprehensive service offering includes editing, print and eBook production, book marketing, cover designs, ISBN registration, and even website designs. We are a single source for all of your publishing needs.

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Chapter 1. The Nature of Happiness

<It's Okay to Get Lost, Because I Know the way Back>

When my happiness superpower is activated, the conditions are surprisingly simple: a quiet moment alone and my own will. That’s all I need. Really, nothing more. If it rains, I’m glad it rains. If the sun shines, I’m glad it shines.

I often tap into this superpower most vividly when I travel alone. Many people think solo travel is lonely, or they can’t enjoy it because they’re too aware of how others might see them. But for me, solo travel has always been when my happiness ability shines the brightest—and I want to share my secret.

I’m terrible with directions—hopeless, really. Yet somehow, I’ve managed to wander across foreign countries, and even I’m amazed at myself. Friends joke that I’m “the greatest beneficiary of GPS navigation.” When I go somewhere unfamiliar, I almost always end up heading in the completely opposite direction. I’ll march happily along, only to realize much later that I’ve gone the wrong way.

But here’s the thing: I never blame myself for getting lost. By now, I’m used to it, and more importantly, I know how many hidden moments of joy I’ve stumbled upon by mistake. I’ve discovered unexpected places, found secret corners of beauty, and recharged my happiness in ways I never could have planned. That’s why I believe—it’s okay to get lost. You can always find your way back.

One time abroad, I got off at the wrong bus stop in the middle of nowhere. No tourists, no signs of life. But I wasn’t discouraged. I hummed a tune and walked on. Then I noticed a side road cut into a hill. Out of curiosity, I followed it—and suddenly, there it was: the ocean.

“Wow!!!”

The sea burst into view all at once, like a curtain lifting on a grand stage. I ran toward the shore, laughing, shouting, like an unleashed retriever. I had seen the ocean before, of course, but the surprise of it, the sudden gift of it, filled me with a happiness so overwhelming it felt like breaking through a ceiling.

The first thing I told myself was, “If I hadn’t gotten lost, I never would have seen this.”

On that empty beach, I sat cross-legged on the sand, listening only to the waves. All the noise of the world disappeared. I picked up handfuls of pebbles and, one by one, imagined putting my frustrations, hurts, and shadows into them, then hurled them into the sea. Watching the waves swallow them was cleansing.

And then I laughed out loud, scooping up more pebbles.

“Go ahead, world, throw whatever you want at me! I won’t be shaken—I choose joy!”

I played like this for hours, tossing stones, laughing, shouting. It was silly, but it was healing. Those memories remain more vivid to me than any famous landmark. Not the postcard-perfect spots, but the mistakes, the detours, the times I thought I messed up—those are the moments that shine brightest.

Another time, I took the bus in the completely wrong direction—for over an hour. I ended up in a tiny rural village so remote I might have been the first Korean visitor there. Yet when I stepped off the bus, I gasped—“Wow!!!”—because it was beautiful. Nothing like the crowded tourist sites.

Later, I realized I was lucky. The very next bus was the last one leaving that village for the day. If I had missed it, I would have been stranded. But I caught it, and I danced while waiting at the stop, full of joy at my strange good fortune.

Even though that detour cost me three hours, it remains one of my happiest travel memories.

So now, when things don’t go as planned, I don’t get angry. Instead, I think:

“What fun or unexpected happiness will come from this?”

“What new story will I get to tell?”

After all, this life is everyone’s first time. It’s natural to get lost, to wander, even to go the wrong way. As long as you eventually turn back, it’s fine. On the way back, you may find an ocean, smell flowers, laugh at a puppy in the street. And slowly, joyfully, you return—not just to your path, but to yourself.

Chapter 3. Happiness in Relationships

<Relationships and the Power of Goodness>

When I look back on the hardest times of my life, seven out of ten were because of people. And when I recall my happiest times? Again, seven out of ten were also because of people. It is paradoxical: the very people who bring us joy can also wound us the most deeply.

People can be harder to face than ghosts. When malicious, unscrupulous individuals—like narcissists—surround you, life becomes unbearable. You don’t even need a diagnosed disorder; some people simply thrive on hurting others. For a time, I lost my faith in humanity because of a toxic narcissistic boss. My trust in people collapsed. But through the process of healing, I came to a profound realization: although one person’s cruelty can feel overwhelming, there are far more good people in the world than bad.

It is true that a single malicious person can make life miserable for many, magnifying their influence. Yet stories of ordinary heroes, people who save others unexpectedly, remind us that goodness is abundant. The world keeps turning warm because of such acts of kindness. Without trust in people, life grows lonely, and happiness feels hollow. We must believe in the goodness of humanity to see life as a playground, a picnic, a place to be enjoyed.

In my twenties, broken by a narcissistic boss, I fled Korea entirely. My bitterness was so deep I thought I hated my country itself. I wandered through villages in Northern Europe, alone and lost. Yet ironically, it was strangers—foreigners in lands far from home—who restored my faith.

In Norway, a flood had stopped the trains, and I was helpless, confused, and unable to understand the announcements. Local Norwegians, reading the fear on my face, guided me across buses, trains, even a ferry, making sure I reached my connection. Some even asked others to look after me once they had to leave. Their kindness shook me deeply.

Later that night, in a remote town in the north, I arrived at a hostel only to find it closed, instructions pasted in Norwegian I couldn’t read. My heart sank. Just then, a young man from Singapore appeared. Despite the freezing cold and without a jacket, he stayed with me as we searched frantically for the missing key. At last, we found it in the neighboring billiard hall. I could hardly express the gratitude bursting inside me. That night, the ice around my heart began to thaw.

In the Czech countryside, more kindness awaited. German strangers translated announcements, helped me find my train, and ensured I arrived safely in Český Krumlov. On the train there, a Czech elder who spoke no English watched me with concern. When I shouted “Krumlov! Krumlov!” he understood. He pointed firmly—“Three stops.” Until he got off, he kept reminding me with his fingers: one, two, three. His persistence brought tears to my eyes.

By then, my frozen heart was melting fast. Later, in the rain-soaked streets of Krumlov, I wandered lost for hours, until a stranger pulled over and insisted I get in his car. He drove me safely to my hotel and disappeared before I could thank him properly.

These acts of kindness healed me. They restored my faith and gave me the strength to return home. It was as though the universe whispered:

“Do not give up on the world. There are far more good people than bad.”

Even now, more than a decade later, those memories move me to tears. They are treasures I carry, reminders I return to whenever life feels heavy. They taught me not only to trust in humanity again, but also to pass on the kindness I received.

I was reminded of this again when I read Brian Klaas’s Fluke: Chance, Chaos, and Why Everything We Do Matters. He tells the story of a child swept into the sea, presumed dead, only to be found alive 18 hours later—kept afloat by a single soccer ball. The astonishing twist? That ball had drifted 130 kilometers after being lost by another boy ten days earlier. A trivial moment became the thread that saved a life.

Reading this, I felt a surge of awe. Any small act I take today could become someone’s lifeline in the future. Even if the results aren’t visible now, the possibility exists. That is why I strive to make each moment meaningful, to send out my own “soccer balls” of kindness into the world.

Because in the end, it is the goodness of people—their quiet, unexpected, profound influence—that makes life worth living.

Chapter 4. Soulful Living

<The Crisis of a Happiness Superpower_Thank You. My Gift>

There were moments when my happiness superpower faltered. Normally my mental strength is steady, rarely shaken, but in a brief period I faced a series of overwhelming events. I thought, as always, that time would heal me. Yet when I was hit hard emotionally, no matter how strong my will, I couldn’t summon my superpower. For a while, I even wondered if I had lost it.

Logically, I knew I was bigger than my problems. I had the tools, the mindset, the solutions. But emotionally, I was completely drained. It felt like the boy Bong-seok in the K-drama Moving, who had the power to fly but couldn’t lift himself beyond a certain height. He would rise a little, then sink back down. That was me—I tried to ignite my happiness, but all I could do was flap my wings helplessly.

I wasn’t miserable, exactly. I recognized the problems, and I still lived an ordinary life—working, eating, laughing, keeping up my routines. Outwardly nothing seemed wrong. But inside, I was burned out. My emotions were depleted, my battery dead.

It was like a car in the middle of winter: if the battery is completely drained, no amount of turning the key will start the engine. You need a jump-start from outside before it can recharge itself. My inner battery was so flat that no spark could catch. Rationally, I told myself, “Lift up the feeling of happiness.” But my body and soul had no strength to receive it.

I worried—what if this rare and precious gift, my happiness superpower, was gone for good? I trusted my resilience, but the fear remained. I realized something profound: just because I couldn’t feel my superpower didn’t mean I was unhappy. My life was calm, steady, and ordinary. And yet that very calmness suffocated me. For me, serenity without joy was not peace—it was a crisis.

Others might find that composure enviable, even a form of happiness. But for me, a happiness superpower who bursts into joy over the smallest sparks, losing that fireworks was unbearable.

And so I understood: I had lived as an extraordinarily happy person all along. What others call “calm” felt, to me, like losing a vital part of myself.

I waited, patiently. I watched myself, listened to my inner voice, gave myself compassion. Weeks passed, then a month. Then, during a snowstorm abroad, exhausted to the bone after a day of chaos, something unexpected happened. Out of nowhere, I smiled.

“Yes—this is it!”

My happiness superpower had returned. Not in an easy moment, but after a brutal, draining ordeal. And yet in that absurd moment of fatigue, a laugh slipped out, and with it the walls of despair crumbled. A flood of relief and gratitude rushed in. “It was hard, but I made it. I survived today.”

And just like that, joy multiplied inside me, soaring higher than ever. Gratitude filled the space where despair had sat. That night, I was dizzy with happiness—my gift had come back.

Since then, I no longer panic when my superpower feels absent. I trust it will return when the time is right. Now that I’ve once lost it, I know with painful clarity how precious it is. I am, once again, a happiness superpower—but one who bows deeply in gratitude for the gift I nearly lost.

Chapter 5. Happinss Superpower's Manifesto

<Treasure-hunting for Dazzling Gifts_The Scavenger Hunt>

From a life that drifted like a buoy with no anchor, the moment I recognized my inner source, it felt as if I had finally found a harbor that would hold me fast. I had a place I could always return to—safe and serene—so the voyage of my life became free and exhilarating. Knowing the course charted for me, I could move with safety and lightness. The future looked clear, so I felt no fear. And even if I strayed, there was a harbor where I could return and be renewed; the journey no longer frightened me.

At no moment was I truly alone. My soul was with me—always supporting, always cheering. I also trusted my soul; whatever came, I believed I could face it with my inner wisdom. As these realizations took root, everything in nature—even the tick of a second hand—grew meaningful. Not knowing when a dazzling gift might appear, I began to make a practice of observing and feeling the details of daily life.

The radiant gifts I speak of are not lottery wins. They are a tender breeze wrapping around me, the soft glow of moonlight, the pageantry of stars against a black night, the hush of the dawn star. If you look at the world with warmth, this treasure hunt is easy—so easy it repeated itself for me every day.

Especially in the dark before dawn, when I step out of the house, I look for that single thread of breeze and gasp at the beauty of the morning star. There is another point that always fills me with awe: when the dimness of early light begins to lift, the sky sometimes stages a perfect harmony of clouds and sun. Words fall away then; only wonder comes.

“Wow…”

After wonder, words still don’t come. Only feeling flows, and my eyes brim with love for these dazzling gifts. That love continues as I head to work, spilling over onto every small, natural thing I meet.

“Wow!!”

To others I may look like someone absurdly, perpetually cheerful. But to me, all of this is the world dropping radiant gifts into my hands. I’ve always been bright by temperament, but once I came to know the strength and wisdom within, I began an earnest treasure hunt.

For me, every day is a scavenger hunt for the dazzling gifts the world tosses my way. It’s like the field trips of childhood, searching for clues hidden between branches and stones. You must try a little, but it isn’t hard. At dawn I lift my eyes to the sky and let the wind touch me, ready for wonder and joy. Sometimes life hides a larger treasure well, tucking it out of sight. Just when I am about to give up, life nudges me: “Don’t quit—look again.” And if I still falter, it smiles and whispers, “Try once more.”

That is life to me. How could I dislike or resent it? I can only love it—this life that watches over me with fond eyes, worried I might stumble. Whatever the situation, the world casually tosses me gifts.

“Here—have a present.”

Because I know the world’s unassuming tenderness, my task is simple: receive. And my warm inner self always says,

“You don’t have to worry anymore. Just keep walking your way—just like this. Then everything will work out, and along the path all you need to do is pick up the gifts.”

It’s a voice that soothes me and gently confirms I am headed in the right direction—a kind guide. I can’t say exactly when I first recognized this certainty within me. Books helped shape it clearly, but even as a child I was someone who saw life as beautiful.

I didn’t know the laws that turn the world, but I was a child who always thanked nature. I still remember this: in my first year of high school, we learned about Yi Seong-gye’s “heavenly aid,” and from then on, whenever sunbeams poured through the clouds, my friends and I would shout, “Heaven’s favor, just for us!” and laugh with delight. Luckily my friends were the same kind of children; when leaves glittered in sunlight, we giggled, calling it a sign of heavenly help. Decades have passed, but I still call that phenomenon “heaven’s aid.” Even then, without knowing it, I believed those signals from nature were radiant gifts for my life.

Later, when I fell back into books and began to contemplate alone, the realities hidden in fog became clear. I no longer needed to ask others what I was feeling; I knew best. And I started to record it all. My work, as it turns out, is to translate into language the feelings that lie beyond language, so others may touch them too. I never imagined my heightened sensitivities would be used so lovingly.

Now I feel I understand a little more of what life is offering. I’m deeply glad. I’m grateful for all the time and space that have allowed each day to become a kind of miracle. The universe is always on my side. And I want to share this energy with you. From now on, you will find the treasures life tosses you each day. You will become someone who is happiness itself. This is how another Happiness Superhuman is born. When you close this book, you will find the bright, untested fire within you—and I truly hope that the promised fire your soul carries will make you, and many others, happier.

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