This comes with a nod of acknowledgement to Arcwelder for his thread with the same title. His question prodded me to think deep for the answers I gave on that thread. My mind kept drawing back to my answer and I through it deserves a fuller treatment. I actually spent all night on fleshing out my answer.

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What Is Best in Life?

In Conan the Barbarian, a Cimmerian warlord thunders: "What is best in life?" One warrior answers with visions of freedom: open grasslands, a swift horse, wind in his hair. "Wrong!" the warlord snaps. Then Conan, played by Arnold Schwarzenegger, delivers the iconic line: "To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentations of their women!" The warlord nods approvingly and declares, "That is good."

But the question digs deeper: what truly defines a life well-lived? It's our True North -- the compass guiding our choices and priorities.

Stephen R. Covey once warned that we may climb the ladder of success our entire lives, only to discover at the top that it's leaning against the wrong wall. Here's my answer to "What is best in life?" I'd love to read yours in the comments.

For me, it's contentment -- a serene state of being whole and complete, free from any nagging sense of lack or the need to fill a void. Contentment isn't stagnation; it's growth anchored in peace. It isn't a destination but the joy of the journey, carried by the quiet confidence you'll arrive where you're meant to be.

I've never been one for "faking it 'til you make it." After deep reflection, confirmed in conversations with my wife, I can say with genuine humility that I have attained contentment. Now, driven by a desire to give back, I offer what I see as its essential foundational footings.

In construction, foundational footings are the load-bearing bases at the bottom of a structure. They spread the weight, preventing collapse. They uphold the visible structure with its utility and beauty. In the same way, these five footings form the bedrock of true contentment.

First: Gratitude and Mindfulness
Gratitude tunes the heart; mindfulness anchors it in the present.

Since November 2006, I've kept a weekly ritual: writing down three things I'm grateful for. Over time, this practice sharpened my awareness like a chef refining a palate or a musician training an ear -- helping me notice the subtle, often-overlooked details that enrich life. This practice helps you find gratitude not just in big occasions, but in the quiet moments. Being on the lookout for the positive turns ordinary experiences into sparks of joy, shielding us from the restless pursuit of more.

My wife and I share a simple phrase in both joyful and difficult times: "These are the good old days." It tags the moment in advance as something we'll cherish in the future either for the joy we felt or the victory for having endured.

Second: Acceptance and Realistic Expectations
Acceptance frees us; realistic expectations protect us.

Contentment requires embracing our circumstances and our limitations, along with the many things beyond our control. Without this, we remain prisoners of endless comparisons -- measuring life against an imagined standard it was never meant to be. As the old poem Desiderata warns, "If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself."

I've learned that locked doors that remain unopened no matter how hard I tried, were not roadblocks but guardrails -- protecting me from worse paths. Acceptance reframes setbacks: a career detour is not failure, but redirection.

This isn't surrender but clarity -- knowing the terrain, weighing your resources, and playing wisely. Some circumstances can't be celebrated -- but they can be reconciled and released. Letting go gives us liberty to move forward unburdened by "wouldas," "couldas," and "shouldas."

Third: Inner Peace and Simplicity
Simplicity sharpens focus; inner peace steadies us.

Contentment flourishes when we draw satisfaction from within rather than chasing validation or possessions. Simplicity isn't deprivation; it's choosing focus over clutter.

I owe my coworker, Dale, thanks for inviting me on short walks. At first I declined, thinking, "I don't have time." But when I finally joined, I discovered how a walk outdoors refreshed me. I learned that peace is fortified in small choices -- carving out space to breathe, notice, and reset.

Clouds drifting across the sky, waves breaking against the shore, a heartfelt conversation -- simplicity clears the noise, letting us savor life's ordinary treasures.

Fourth: Meaning and Purpose
Purpose redeems struggle; meaning gives weight to our days.

A life without purpose drifts. But when your daily actions align with something larger than yourself, even hardship takes on meaning. Routines become rituals of contribution. The mundane takes on worth. "No's" become stepping stones to the "yes" that matters.

Purpose answers the "why" of life, transforming effort into worth. The 2008 financial crash devastated my personal finances. My home value was a third of my home loan and my 401k was cut in half. I was searching. That's when I discovered Viktor Frankl's "Man's Search for Meaning."

"It did not really matter what we expected from life, but rather what life expected from us. We needed to stop asking about the meaning of life and instead to think of ourselves as those who were being questioned by life - daily and hourly. Our answer must consist, not in talk and meditation, but in right action and in right conduct."

Frankl didn't craft that passage from an ivory tower but from life's crucible in Nazi concentration camps, where he lost his wife, parents, and brother. His words shifted my thinking from "Why is this happening to me?" to "What is this suffering asking of me?" Purpose doesn't erase pain, but it redeems it.

Fifth: Strong Relationships
Relationships multiply joy; they divide sorrow.

No one thrives in isolation. Bonds with family, friends, and community provide belonging, support, and resilience.

During a difficult season, I often vented my frustrations to a friend named Lee. The irony wasn't lost on me. I was complaining about life's unfairness to a man who was blind, whose wife was battling cancer, and whose daughter had special needs. Yet, Lee encouraged me, cheering as I emerged from that dark valley of shadows. We continued meeting in coffee shops, swapping stories -- I joked he never saw the punchlines coming.

Another friend, Alvin, and I once heard a speaker say everyone needs a "3 a.m. friend" -- someone you can call at that hour, knowing they'll answer and help. Since then, I've told Alvin I am his 3 a.m. friend -- as long as he never calls before 9 AM or after 7 PM.

Strong relationships are wells of joy and resilience. Dig your well before you're thirsty.

Conclusion
When these five footings stand together - gratitude grounding you in the present, acceptance easing your burdens, simplicity clearing the noise, relationships enriching your heart, and purpose redeeming your struggles -- you unlock the best in life: true contentment.

Contentment isn't static but dynamic, shifting as you grow. The best of life, like Conan's ethos, isn't handed to you -- it demands scars, effort, and setbacks. But unlike his quest, true triumph isn't crushing enemies; it's being whole and free of want.

So I ask you: What is best in life for you? What footings would you add or replace? Share your thoughts -- I'd love to learn from your journey.

This message has been edited. Last edited by: Rey HRH,