Posts Tagged ‘happiness’
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The gift of happiness . . . will you see it when it's offered?
All I wanted was a little peace and quiet. A moment alone. I longed for the kind of happiness that a little self-imposed solitude might bring. And I had it all set up just as I had envisioned it: A cup of tea in my hands. A novel (enthusiastically recommended by a friend) sitting temptingly on the coffee table just beside me. The pillows on the couch supporting my back just so. And music cued up on the stereo. Something soft and dreamy with a sweet vocal accompaniment that sung of hope and light.
I settled myself in. Just right. It was just as I had imagined a happy moment might be. I was totally prepared to be happy. It was just one deep exhale away.
And then. BANG! The front door slammed open, sprang back from its own force and slammed shut twice as loudly. “MOM!” four small voices exclaimed at once. Immediately my brows knit together and my shoulders flew up towards my ears. “Mom, look what we found!” Our children came tearing into the living room – a laughing, foot stamping, mud trampling crew, eyes ablaze with some new discovery.
I held up my hand at arm’s length, palm out, like a vigilant crossing guard. I frowned. The happy moment I had long envisioned was crumbling like so many dried mud clods. “Your shoes,” I admonished them, “Look at your shoes.” They looked down at their feet, shrugged, kicked off their shoes, and quickly moved toward me once again, smiling hopefully. I shook my head and rubbed the two lines that were forming between my brows. I strained to hear the lovely music playing on the stereo, but could barely detect it over the sound of my temples throbbing. “Please put your shoes by the door before you take another step. Do you know how long it took me to clean this room up?” They looked at one another, picked up their shoes and lumbered back toward the door. But instead of placing their shoes down and tiptoeing back to me (as proper respect would demand), they sadly put their shoes back on and began to walk back out the door.
Now I was at the edge of fury. Not only had my peace and happiness been utterly destroyed by this interruption, now they were going to walk out without even telling me what they had come in to tell me in the first place. Could this get worse? “What?!” I asked, “What is it that is so important that you can’t even take the time to put your shoes by the door? And is it that much to ask for a moment of peace?”
“Never mind,” said the youngest as he gingerly shut the door beside him.
I took a deep breath, trying to restore my calm. But the moment had passed. My nerves were frayed and the moment of calm, peaceful happiness I had envisioned had passed. Oh, well – I thought dejectedly – I might as well get some reading in. And as I reached for the novel on the coffee table, I saw it. The first flower of spring. A daffodil. A bright yellow flower, as hopeful as a child’s smile, sitting on the coffee table next to some fresh muddy fingerprints.
Happiness had come careening into my life like a wild and fresh spring rainstorm and I had shooed it away because of some stale, airless notion of happiness that I thought would shelter me from that very life-giving force.
How often does this happen to us? Our idea of happiness blinds us to the real happiness that is holding out a flower to us?
We must take great care in our lives, that in pursuing the elusive butterfly of happiness, we do not trample the garden of happiness that is right under our feet.
Your Teacher is Always With You
Posted on: April 29, 2009
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James writes:
Your Teacher is Always With You
Somewhere around the 5th grade, I became aware of bullies. Or, rather, they became aware of me as a delightfully easy target for their aggressive self-expression.
My parents stepped in to help me out by signing me up for kung fu lessons. Somehow my mom found a Babson College student named Mark Yee who was working his way through business school by teaching scrawny adolescents how to fight. He started coming to our house weekly for lessons.
We started with the usual techniques for punching and kicking. But he must have seen, at that early age, that I was more interested in the mystical side of the practice. He taught me how to meditate, and guided me through some experiences which were, in retrospect, quite advanced. We left our bodies and glided around the room like ghosts. We closed our eyes and practiced defending against punches using just our 6th sense. We felt the subtle movements of the qi energy ebbing and flowing in response to our motions.
At the time, I had no idea that he was training me in intermediate Jedi powers. I just thought this was normal. When a bully comes up to you demanding your lunch money, you wave your hands, Obi Wan Kenobi-style, and say, “This is not the lunch money you want,” and they back off slowly. I never got quite to that point, but we did work on moving with zero effort, diving through colors, and smiling while fighting. All this in my parents’ driveway, back yard, and living room.
I have no way of finding Mark Yee. He has slipped away – dissolved into the sea of humanity like so much salt in the broth. This man played a pivotal role in my adolescent spiritual development, and I have no way of getting in touch with him. How many Mark Yee’s are there in the phone book? Even the Internet can’t help reunite us.
I have no way of finding Mark Yee, yet he is not lost. He might be anywhere on the planet – it has been 30 years since we last bowed good bye to each other – and yet he is as close to me as breathing.
Because I carry Mark Yee around with me. I have no choice. He’s a part of me now. Were it not for Mark, I would not be the person I am right now. If he didn’t exist, then I wouldn’t exist in the way I do now. We are not entirely separate, because without Mark being Mark, James would not be James.
My left pinky is part of me, because I would not be the same if not for my left pinky. In the same way, Mark is part of me, because I would not be the same if not for him and his teachings.
Who have been your most important teachers? Maybe they are people you knew personally, like Mark Yee, or maybe they are the enlightened masters of the wisdom literature.
Take a moment and feel how they are with you right now. You carry them with you everywhere you go. They can always teach you, inspire you, and support you.
Your teacher is part of you. Your teacher is always with you.
Blessings!
“Washing the dishes is at the same time a means and an end; that is, not only do we do the dishes in order to have clean dishes, we also do the dishes just to do the dishes, to live fully in each moment while washing them.”
– Zen Master, Thich Nhat Hanh
It was a typical night after dinner. The meal was finished and conversations about the day began to trail off. Time to clean up.
Our four children cleared their plates. Then they rinsed and stacked their dishes in
Washing dishes can teach us to enjoy the moment.
the dishwasher. As they made their way up to bed, I finished rinsing the last of the dishes, pots, and pans, distractedly thinking about my plans for the following day.
When the last dish was rinsed and stacked, I put the dishwashing detergent in the little detergent compartment, snapped its lid shut, closed the door to the dishwasher and listened for click that indicates the door is locked and the dishes are ready to run.
Then I pressed the start button.
Nothing.
I figured that I had probably not shut the door to the washer tightly enough. So I opened the door and shut it again. Hard.
Pressed the button again. Not a sound.
Then I did what any reasonable person would do. I pressed the button repeatedly. Opened the door. Slammed it shut. And then mashed the button again as hard as I could.
Nada.
Taking a deep breath, I knew what I must do. Something I hadn’t done in quite a while. I filled the sink with soapy water and began to unload the dishes from the dishwasher and back into the sink. Tomorrow, I thought as I angrily scrubbed each dish and glass, I will call someone to repair this blasted thing.
Well, it turned out that my work schedule was not so accommodating. There just wasn’t a window of opportunity to pick up the phone that day. So the day passed without a call to a repair technician and that evening I found myself back at the sink with soapy water and a sponge. Tomorrow, I promised myself, I will definitely call someone to repair this blasted thing.
The next day came and went. And the day after that. And the day after that.
And then something remarkable happened. I began to enjoy washing the dishes. I liked the sound of the water running. I enjoyed the warmth of the water, the feel of the bubbles, the smoothness of the dishes under my hands.
You see, when the dishwasher was working, I was just rinsing the dishes so I could get the dishes into the machine. So I could press the start button. So I could get on with the next activity. Every part of the process was just a stepping stone to the next. I was doing the dishes just to get the dishes over and done with.
But when the dishwasher broke, I learned to wash the dishes just to wash the dishes. I found that dish washing time is an opportunity to slow down and enjoy the moment. It’s a time to slow down my movements and enjoy sights, sounds, and sensations. I also found that it’s a good time for the family to be together. To work together. To enjoy one another’s company for a few more precious moments before the day comes to a close.
The dishwasher is still broken. I have no plans to call anyone to repair it. Someday I might just call the repair technician. Maybe.
But for now, it’s me, some lovely warm water, some delightful bubbles, and a pile of smooth, shiny dishes. The dirty dishes have become my friends. My companions. And the dishes and have a date to enjoy every night.
Forget your troubles?
Posted on: February 1, 2009
"Forget your troubles, c'mon, get happy!" Good advice?
Remember the Judy Garland song that goes, “Forget your troubles, c’mon get happy”?
It’s a great tune if you want to get up and dance. But as advice goes, it’s pretty lousy.
First of all, it’s scarce on details. Forget your troubles? How does one even begin to do such a thing? Our troubles are staring us right in the face. It’s like forgetting the elephant in the room. Lost your job? Forget about it. Sick children? What do you care? Get happy!
And also, is forgetting your troubles really such a wise thing to do? Is it compassionate towards oneself or others to simply deny painful realities in order to feel good? I can hardly imagine that walking up to someone who is facing foreclosure on their house and breaking into a tap dance would actually make them feel anything but bewildered and misunderstood.
So it’s no wonder that happiness sometimes happiness gets a bad rap. It seems like a denial of some of the most painful realities of life. We think that happiness is possible only in the absence of trouble. Well if this were the case, then happiness is an impossibility and happy people are delusional dreamers at best.
But I want to propose that happiness does not require us to forget, deny, or glaze over our troubles with superficial sweetness. Pain is a part of life. All the same it is possible to be deeply happy, even in the midst of our troubles.
How is that so?
Four years ago, I had the profound experience of being with my father when he passed away. My brother and his wife were with me at the time. My father had been in a coma for two days. His organs were failing, and one by one, his systems were shutting down. All the same, we held his hands and stroked his forehead. We spoke to him. We told him how much we loved him. How much we would miss him. As we watched the heart monitor becoming more erratic, our tearful eyes met. We knew that we had just minutes left with him. The attending nurses stopped in from time to time and put a hand gently on our shoulders and offered us kind reassurance that even though the passage was imminent, it would be peaceful and comfortable. And when the monitor finally showed a flat line, my brother and my sister-in-law and I held each other and wept.
Was this painful? Deeply. Was it joyful? Not at all.
Was I happy? Yes. I was happy.
I was happy to have the opportunity to be with my father in his final moments. I was happy to be with my brother and my sister-in-law, who are both such loving individuals. I was happy to have people who were close to me who could support me through this painful separation from someone I loved so much. I was happy that we were surrounded by such competent and compassionate professionals who could guide us through this difficult and mysterious process. I was happy for the ability to weep and to be consoled in the wake of my father’s passing.
Yes, I cried. I cried until my eyes were swollen and I could barely catch my breath. But I also smiled. In the midst of this trouble, there was so much to be grateful for. There were so many gifts of the heart to give and to receive. And to be alive and aware of the gifts we are given, even in the worst kind of troubles, that is reason to celebrate. That is reason to be happy.
So, don’t forget your troubles.
But, c’mon . . . get happy.
“Where’s the Canyon?”
Posted on: January 28, 2009
Where's the Canyon?
In Lauren’s family lore, there’s a story of a road trip incident which will live in infamy for as long as there are family members to tell & re-tell it. In the late 60’s, the family had packed 2-year old Lauren and her two older brothers into the station wagon and trekked across the country, from the busy streets of Houston, Texas to the wide open vistas of The West. They were in search of natural beauty, peak experiences, and family togetherness.
After a particularly long haul, the family wagon pulled into the sprawling parking lot at the eastern edge of the Grand Canyon. Mom & Dad got out and let their creaking joints unfold, anticipating the moment when their children would finally behold the magnificent spectacle and stand in awe of the splendor of God’s creation. As Lauren’s mother leaned down to help Lauren out of the car, the two boys sprang out of the car and bounced toward the railing, instinctively knowing that something amazing lay ahead.
Lauren’s oldest brother was the first to arrive at the edge of the canyon. A sharp inhale, then an elongated, breathy, “Wooooooow.” A pause. Then, the arrow to the parents’ heart: “Where’s the canyon?”
So it is with happiness, right? We are smack dab in the middle of wonder, miracles popping all around us like psychedelic popcorn, and we ask, “Where’s my happiness?”
And the secret is that if I can’t find the happiness abounding in my life right now, there’s no way I’ll be able to appreciate the happiness brought by achieving my goals. I’ll get to my goal, and I might not even see it. I already have my eyes, my home, my kids, etc – surely if these were gone I would yearn for them terribly. So I already have the objects of my heart’s desire.
Today, I resolve to know that I am already at the canyon. I resolve to enjoy the journey. Though I have tremendous plans, big dreams, and high hopes, I promise to appreciate what’s right in front of me. May we all do the same!
Be peaceful,
James & Lauren
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The other day I was driving my son to school. It’s a fairly short drive. Maybe five or ten minutes. Usually we sit quietly in one another’s company as we take in the sunrise in the mountains surrounding our town. Sometimes I will break the silence to point out how lucky we are to be able to see such beauty each morning. He will smile and nod as he stares somewhat sleepily out the window. He’s heard me say it lots of times before.
On this particular day, I was just appreciating what a sweet kid he was. I mean, he’s never once rolled his eyes or said, “You say that every morning.” He’s a very gracious guy in that way. I was feeling particularly happy to have him as my passenger and I wanted to let him know.
“You know what?” I asked him as we drove along the highway. I didn’t wait for him to guess. “You’re my best buddy.”
He smiled. “And you’re my best mommy,” he answered. And then after a pause, he continued, “ And Dad’s my best dad. And my siblings are my best siblings. And my pets are my best pets.”
Now granted he didn’t say, “You’re the best mommy in the world.” He didn’t take stock of all the moms walking the face of the earth and hand me the tiara and the sash. He simply said, “You’re my best mommy.” Some might hear this and find it less than flattering. Well, of course I am his best mommy. I am his only mommy. It’s hardly an achievement to be the best in show if you’re the sole entry in the competition.
But all the same there was a sweetness to what he said. I’m all the mommy he has. I am his best mommy. Do I need to be anyone else’s best mommy? Is there a better mommy to be than that?
Every moment we live is just the same. I only have this moment. Is there a better moment than this one if this is the only one I’ve got? And what about life? I only have this one. Is there a better life than this one I have right now?
What if we could look at who we are and what we have and say with great sincerity:
“This moment is my best moment. This life is my best life.”
Not “This is the best moment of my life.” Not “I have the best life in the world.”
Just a simple, sweet acknowledgment of what we have. A loving expression of the basic goodness of what is.
This moment is my best moment. This life is my best life.
Try it. And find out how sweet it really is.
“It’s a mommy thing”?
Posted on: January 4, 2009
Just before winter break, Lauren finally got sick.
As a family, we ran a full-out sprint all the way through December: holiday performances for every member of the family (plus the school musical for the youngest two kids), nonstop parties, presents, planning… you know the drill. Driving yourself crazy so you can enjoy the special holiday things you’re driving youself crazy to do. We all do it. 😉
It's a mommy thing
After the last strains of the last holiday song had wafted into the cold night air, and Lauren’s adrenaline started letting down, that sore throat which had been whining for attention all day started yelling & screaming. I looked at her furrowed brow and pale complexion and said, “You’re going to the doctor tomorrow – you’ve got strep.”
The strep test was so glaringly positive that the nurse started writing the prescription within 90 seconds.
But here’s the thing that blew my mind: two separate people that day, when I explained that Lauren was laid out with a raging bacterial infection, said, “Well, at least she can get some rest.” I must have looked at them with disbelief, because they both explained, with a knowing smile, “It’s a mommy thing.”
The widely-accepted message: if you’re a mom, you can only rest when your body shuts down of its own accord.
Let’s start changing that, shall we? Starting now, let’s “allow” mommies to take care of themselves. In fact, let’s support & encourage mommies to get enough rest. Here are a few ideas.
- Let’s schedule less stuff. This is easy to say and hard to do! Everything we do seems urgent and mandatory. The most gentle and effective way of doing less is to practice appreciating every moment. When we can see that the present moment is delightful and magical, the drive to schedule more activity falls away.
- Let’s change the mindset. From “Moms are supposed to work themselves into the ground” to “Moms can be most loving & caring when they’re healthy, happy and peaceful.” If you catch yourself pushing too hard, just take a breath and say, “Healthy, happy, and peaceful.”
- Let’s help moms stay healthy. If you are a mom, maybe you can take 5 minutes sometime during the day to just sit quietly and be with yourself. Have a friendly conversation with your body: “Body, I am so happy and grateful to be with you. What can I do for you right now?” Same for your mind, heart, and spirit. If you know a mom who could use a break, watch her kids for just a few minutes, and encourage her to sit quietly with herself.
Mommies will still get sick. We all get sick from time to time. But let’s not let that be the only way to get a rest.
May you be healthy, happy and peaceful in 2009!
Caught in the act!
Posted on: December 26, 2008
This afternoon, Lauren & I decided to walk downtown to do some writing in a coffee shop. We chucked the laptops in a backpack, strapped on the sneakers & headed towards our favorite indie bookstore cafe (Malaprop’s).
About halfway there, I was already lost in thought. But I’ll tell you what woke me up with a shock. I actually thought to myself, “It’s going to be so great when I can walk to work, doing what I love.” Holy cow! I was actually wishing for what I was doing that very second! Right then I was
- In perfect health – able to walk the mile into town with no problem
- Neither too young nor too old
- With my wife, also in perfect health
- On my way to do exactly what I was wishing I could do
It’s such an easy trap to fall into, wishing for some future time & place when you’ll be truly happy. For me it’s an old habit, and old habits die hard.
But habits CAN be changed. If you are also in the habit of wishing for a future time & place & set of circumstances when you’ll be happy, please know that you can change. If you can read this, you have working eyes – a condition for happiness! If you can scroll down this page, you have working hands – what a wonderful condition for happiness. If you can understand these words, you have a working mind. If you didn’t have good eyes or good hands or a good mind, imagine how much you would wish for them.
You have them! You have, right now, many things which you would wish for dearly, if you didn’t have them. Just like I had exactly what I was wishing for.
It was like I was standing at the seashore, watching the waves, wishing that I was at the seashore watching the waves.
I caught myself in the act. You can too.
What are you waiting for?
It’s so much easier to check something off! If my to-do list says “Write a blog post about blogging”, I have open up WordPress, think up a topic, compose something meaningful. No matter how easy the technology makes the process, there’s still a process. There are still several steps between deciding on my goal and checking it off the list.
On my To Be List, however, I’m more likely to write, “Enjoy writing a blog post about blogging.” I can immediately achieve my goal as soon as I start! In fact, I can begin enjoying writing a blog post before I start writing it! I can enjoy thinking about what I’m going to write. I can enjoy the fact that I can think in the first place, that I have a mind, that I have ideas, that I know how to type, that I have a computer, that I have time & energy to write, etc. Immediately, I have accomplished my goal.
If “Be Happy” is on my To Be List, I can accomplish it over & over, all day. As soon as I set the goal, I can accomplish it with the very next breath, the very next thought, the very next moment.
Now, will this make me an underachiever? Will I simply go around smiling all day like a simpleton, enjoying everything and accomplishing nothing?
It’s actually the reverse. The more I enjoy my activities, the more I enjoy the process of setting goals and working towards them, the more energy I have to do the work. When I feel happy and grateful while working, I get biochemical happy hormones reinforcing the work!
Imagine that you walk to work (we should all be so lucky), and there are two ways to go: Path A and Path B. They both get you to work at the same time. But every time you take Path A, you pass a chocolate store handing out free samples. And every time you walked on Path B, you had to walk through a slush puddle, arriving at work with cold, wet feet.
If you could walk every day on Path A, you would enjoy the walk to work. If you had to take Path B every day, how much would you look forward to getting out the door in the morning? Might you even, after several days of slushy socks, start looking for a different job?
When you choose the happy path, it will give you more energy to do accomplish your goals. Enjoy the process, and you are more likely to stay engaged. Put it on your To Be List, and check it off right away. You’ll feel happier, more confident, more enthusiastic. You might even spread the happy feelings to someone else!
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