Genuine well being for ourselves and the planet

Archive for the ‘Environmental Concerns’ Category

The Power of a Positive No to Increase Happiness

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The Standing Rock Sioux protest against the Dakota access pipeline.  Photo by Little Redfeather Design/Honor the Earth

 

In 2005, after I had applied for the Masters in Mediation program at Woodbury College, I sat down with the Admissions Director for an informational interview.  “Would the program involve much conflict?” I asked her.  In retrospect, how embarrassing.  A mediator’s main job is to be calm in the midst of sometimes stormy conflicts, helping disputants move toward mutually acceptable solutions.

I got in the program anyway and fell in love with conflict theory, my first deep foray into brain science and human behavior. One of my favorite books was The Power of A Positive No  by William Ury.  For many of us, saying “no” is just as welcome as entering into conflict.  In fact, it sometimes is entering into conflict, or at least bringing the dispute to light — even if the whole thing is only within our own heads (“no, you cannot have that cake!” “but I want it!”).  Ury makes saying “no” much easier by asking us to consider, when we say no, what are we saying “yes” to?power-of-positive-no

That may be a simplification of Ury’s book, but this basic question has served me well whenever a no was emotionally difficult, inconvenient, and/or requiring some level of sacrifice.  Though Ury’s subtitle, Save the Deal, Save the Relationship and Still Say No, focuses on interpersonal conflict, I have found the positive no formula helpful in many situations. For example, I have said no to quite a few things that I previously enjoyed — nail polish, hair driers, meat (mostly), clothing driers, etc. — because the “yes” is so much bigger: a clean, livable climate for future generations. Then again, we all are in relationship with the climate, with the generations who will follow us, even with our own consciences.  Maybe it is all about relationships after all.

In any case, this is not just a personal tool — saying no to get to yes can be powerful with big picture disputes as well.  The Standing Rock Sioux protest against the Dakota Access Pipeline is an inspiring example. I don’t want to speak for the determined water protectors, but what I see is a strong no to the pipeline, no to fossil fuel infrastructure, and no to the possibility of a devastating pipeline break and oil spill — all based on an unwavering yes to water, to life, to future generations, and to sacred lands and spiritual traditions.

Of course, a positive no is more complex than simply focusing on yes,  because we all are in relationship with one another. It is often both desirable and advisable to consider other options.  For the global climate action movement, for example, it is insufficient to just say no to the hardworking women and men in the fossil fuel industry. We do need to say no to fossil fuels, for sure — but these folks need jobs and incomes. For sure.  Thus the climate action movement also advocates for a just economy with alternative livelihoods for these families and communities — such as, building green energy infrastructure.

On a personal happiness level, sometimes yes is just yes.  Whether it’s practicing meditation, being a better listener, or simply smiling more, many positive psychology tools don’t require saying no.

Frequently, though, no has an important role to play.  I love pretty clothing and shiny trinkets, but I can usually reject their lure thanks to my well-rooted yes to saving the planet as best I can.  My no to stuff is sometimes challenging, but it ultimately makes me happy for at least three reasons:

  1. Our brains are not happy when we act in discord with our values and morals. Doing what my own brain believes is the right thing increases my happiness.
  2. The happiness hit from buying stuff is short lived.  There are always prettier clothes and shinier trinkets.
  3. Limiting my spending also means liberating some of my time.  Since I am not working simply to pay a department store credit card, I am freer to choose a career based on passion, not paycheck.

Sometimes the yes precedes an inevitable no.  When my daughter was nearing the end of her pregnancy, I absolutely said yes to driving from Vermont to Alabama to be there for her in the weeks before and after she gave birth. This meant saying no to the Happiness Paradigm Store and Experience, an enterprise I had started less than six months earlier.  I shut it down for two months, just when I should have been building the new business.  Instead, I built a closer relationship with my daughter and a deep, deep bond with my grandchild.  It was a good happiness choice for us all.

Back to the systems level, I think the power of a positive no may be even more helpful as we move toward a gross national happiness paradigm.   To embrace policies and political and economic philosophies based on a holistic “yes!” to the maximum well being for all people and the planet will require some really tough “no’s” to the dominance of a consumerism-obsessed, money focused, growth economy-insistent, gross national product way of thinking.  To state the obvious, it will not be easy.

Big jobs are easier broken into bite size pieces.  The Bhutanese, who have a gross national happiness system in place, have done that for us, dividing the big picture into nine “domains” — areas where government policy can best support well being.  The nine are: psychological well-being, physical health, time balance, community vitality, education, culture, environment, good government, and standard of living.

 

Not that any of these is really bite sized.  Still, this division makes it a bit easier to envision what to say no to, and what the yes might be.  Take trust in government for example.  I suspect there is a broad consensus for saying no! to the corrupting influence of money in politics, in order to say yes to healthier democracy.  However, since, campaigns will still need to be financed, the no is insufficient without an alternative vision — like public financing of congressional campaigns.

This example, like so many others, provides no panacea. Money will find a way to seep back in.  John Gardner, the founder of Common Cause, once quipped that those who reform systems and those who scheme to undermine those reforms should make an appointment to meet up several years after the reforms are passed — because, by then, it will time for new reforms.

Obviously, gross national happiness advocates are not trying to create a utopia. Rather, while we say no to a framework that no longer supports well being for either people or the planet, we say yes to new definitions of success that are more complete, more sustainable, and much happier for many more people.

It’s going to be a heckuva journey getting there, but journeys start today with one small step.  You can make that small but significant step today: say yes to happiness by signing the Charter for Happiness.  There will be plenty of time to say no all along the way.  Right now, all you need to do is say yes.  Yes, yes, yes!

The Hills Are Alive — With the Sound of Climate Resistance

Vermont's Green Mountains, alive with music and climate action.

Vermont’s Green Mountains, alive with music and climate action.

For my granddaughter Madeleine’s fourth birthday, my husband gave her a Sound of Music DVD.  She was pleased enough, but when we sat down to watch this family favorite together a conflict arose.  Madeleine insisted on Star Wars instead, with us. Since we most definitely did not want to watch Star Wars ourselves, unpleasantness was brewing.  So I dusted off my mediator skills — yes, these tools can work even with pre-schoolers — to determine why Madeleine was going to the mat for Star Wars.  The answer? Darth Vader, a major league bad guy.

Ah. Easy to solve. We had convinced Madeleine that Sound of Music was a happy, singing, dancing love fest when she is currently much more fascinated with monsters of all stripes.  When I explained that Sound of Music actually has some of the worst bad guys in history — real ones, led by the evil monster Hitler — Madeleine was satisfied.  She changed into a princess costume, and we settled in for an afternoon of nuns and Nazis.

Madeleine enjoyed herself, but with that set-up, I found Sound of Music to be a very disturbing movie.  It was unsettling at the least to watch the characters on screen — based on real people — go merrily about their lovely lives with picnics, puppet shows, and a gala ball despite the fact that their country was about to be devastated.  So much suffering was just around the corner, yet no one seemed to know or care, except the Captain.  Even he, though, seems completely absorbed in his own life.

The problem is, that’s kind of where we are right now — singing, dancing, falling in love, and having parties while the climate change monster is on our very doorstep, at best.  In many places, the ravages of climate change have already barged right through the front hall with never-before-imagined fires, droughts, super storms, and crazy temperatures.

Life where I live often seems normal, but it isn’t — and it isn’t normal where you are, either.  We can keep pretending that all is well – but that doesn’t change the fact that the telegraph boy singing to our daughter in the garden is a Nazi, metaphorically speaking.  Peril is upon us.  Beating back that peril will take a great deal more than the Captain’s defiant yanking down of the Swastika flag hanging from his villa. We have to rise up and take creative, strong, bold, and united action.

Montpelier, Vermont may not be as stunning as Salzburg, Austria where the Sound of Music takes place — but it is heartbreakingly lovely here, especially in the spring when the sun returns, the frogs again begin their loud mating rituals, and the Farmer’s Market comes back outside.  Sometimes, it is so hard to remember and appreciate that we are living under such a dire threat.  But we are.  We are.  We are.

Of course the comparison to the Sound of Music can only go so far.  How many of us actually make play clothes out of draperies any more?  And I by no means wish to imply that all the hard working men and women in the fossil fuels industry are Nazis.  We are all complicit in building and maintaining the system.

Here’s the good news, the really really good news: the climate justice movement is huge, a worldwide collaboration — growing not only numbers but also in audacity. Soon, from May 4-15, 2016 you can look for and participate in an unprecedented global wave of mass actions targeting the world’s most dangerous fossil fuel projects to keep coal, oil, and gas in the ground and accelerate a just transition to 100% renewable energy.

This tremendous resistance is called “Break Free from Fossil Fuels,” led by local and international organizations, grassroots groups, and regional coalitions  — all determined to stop fossil fuel projects with more than a dozen major mobilizations on six continents.  Excitingly, for my friends and readers in Vermont, one of these actions will be just across the border from us, in Albany, on May 14th.  You can get on a bus to head over there for this historic day!  All the info you need is here.

Wherever in the world you are, you can look to Break Free’s planned actions as an outstanding illustration of the perseverance and courage of citizen activists all across the planet.  Thank god for their willingness to put their bodies on the line!  I am deeply grateful, and heartened by the movement’s willingness to escalate resistance to free us all from the unspeakable suffering of climate change.

Equally important, Break Free is working to build a brighter future for all.  Certainly there are viable solutions.  In fact, in his book The Great Disruption, Paul Gilding says creating this better future should be easier than vanquishing the Nazis, once we’re all on board.

But we’re not all on board.  Despite December’s Paris climate agreement, governments remain irresponsibly slow to take real climate action — so we the people have to step it up.  Break Free proponents say we are close to an historic, global shift in our energy system.  The way we get there is by peaceful direct action that confronts those who are profiting from climate change and takes power back for the people.  This will often mean arrest, and creating situations that inconvenience and/or confuse others.

Not too long ago, there was an action in Montpelier which shut down a street and a critical office building in an effort to stop a fracked gas pipeline in my state.  I visited some of those camped out in the street, in the rain, offering them companionship and gratitude.  Other people dropped by to bring them food.  They had plenty of food.

The next night, I was stunned when a woman in my yoga class — a woman who works in the shut down office building — made snide and derogatory remarks about this same group of climate warriors.  We were preparing for yoga, a peaceful, respectful time, so I kept my mouth shut.  But I wanted to shout, they are trying to save the planet for godsakes!  Who cares if you’re inconvenienced at work for a few hours???

So I know not everyone will applaud those taking part in the Break Free actions.  But here’s the thing.  It is easy now to look back to the time of Sound of Music, and the war that followed, and applaud all the disobedience and resistance against the Nazis any and every citizen mustered.  Even, wish there had been more. How much more will that be the case in the future, as our grandchildren’s children reflect back on our actions?  Particularly since none of us can climb over a mountain to reach safety?  There is no safety.  If ever resistance and disobedience were called for, the time is now.

A final note.  What does this have to do with happiness?  Everything, it has everything to do with happiness.  You may have seen the meme floating around the internet proclaiming that “Happiness is an inside job.”  Well it is — and it is also an outside job.  Just how happy do you think the von Trapps were in exile, as they learned how many of their friends and neighbors back in Salzburg had been killed by the Nazis?  As they themselves struggled to build their new life?  And what of love and compassion?  How happy do you think I feel when I consider the world my beloved Madeleine will grow up to inherit?  Oh, yes, and food.  Food makes me happy.  What if climate change destroys the crops? Etc. Ad nauseum.

I’ll wrap up with one more look at the von Trapps.  Their love, music, play, resilience, and courage were all excellent coping qualities in extremely hard times, even if their lack of awareness and action was almost deadly for them.  Our challenge is to emulate their strengths as we face the peril of our age. Fine, let’s be playful: I have confidence in sunshine, I have confidence in rain, I have confidence that spring will come again — besides which you see I have confidence in the climate justice movement!  Seriously, I do.  May it be so.

On the Happiness Road: Temporary Inconvenience, Permanent Improvement

 

Raccoons in your house? Not happy making at all.

Raccoons in your house? Not happy making at all.

Though we may sometimes feel like hard hats would be helpful, happiness isn’t a road construction project.  Metaphorically, it’s transportation related — you know, it’s the journeys we take, traversing the highways and byways of life.  We’re never finished — until, of course, we’re really finished.  (Hmmm, maybe happiness does resemble road maintenance after all …)

In any case, I’ve always appreciated the highway signs suggesting we chill out about the temporary inconvenience of driving delays and focus instead on the “permanent” improvements the highway crew is working so hard to create. Very positive attitude, very zen.  I like it.

Those signs have been on my mind lately, because I’m in the process of pushing through a personal “inconvenient” situation on the road to more-or-less permanent improvement — an improvement which is also, not coincidentally, a tiny drop in the ocean of changes we need for a happy, healthy planet.

My personal/collective temporary inconvenience has to do with weatherizing our house.  Reluctantly, I finally started the weatherization process by taking advantage of a free, community home energy visit.  I expected the visit to be unpleasant, which it was, even though the two energy experts were rational and personable grown-ups.  But sealing my house to minimize our consumption of fossil fuels, and maximize the effectiveness of whatever energy sources we do use, is not my idea of a good time.  It is expensive, aesthetically displeasing, and tedious.  Financially and time-wise, it is certainly inconvenient — at least in the short term.  Long term — that’s a different story.  Long term, it is a definite improvement, even a moral imperative.

In short, here’s the moral of this story: happiness is something we sometimes have to invest in, sacrifice for, work on.  There are a few subtexts — looking for silver linings, calming the ego down, appreciating what we have or have accomplished rather than what we think we’re lacking — but mostly, I’ve been mulling over the fact that building and maintaining happiness is not always easy or fun.

It’s a moral that matters, not just for ourselves, but for a happy planet. As I’ve been tossing this personal happiness issue around my brain, I’ve appreciated how much the “temporary inconvenience, permanent improvement” mantra also applies to fighting climate change.  Certainly, much of the consumer-driven capitalist system is convenience-based — buying new rather than repairing, the ease of tossing clothes into a dryer rather than hanging them on the line, the comfort of seat warmers in the car during winter rather than tolerating the cold for a few extra minutes, etc., ad infinitum.  Paper napkins and disposable plastic forks.  Leaf blowers.  For god’s sake, can’t we just use rakes?  Or even let a few leaves decorate our sidewalks?

Of course, we all know — on some level, at least, we all know — the earth cannot afford our wasteful ways.  Heck, we personally can barely afford our wasteful, spendthrift ways.  But to change all this … oh, how inconvenient. How dreadfully inconvenient.  (And, please be assured, I’m talking to myself as much as I’m talking to you!)

Clearly, we need to embrace the road sign view of inconvenience — it’s temporary.  And then life gets better. Whereas, if we don’t embrace inconvenience … well, just look around at the state of our infrastructure. Might that slogan be, “Permanent convenience, permanent disrepair?”

Embracing the road to improvement doesn’t mean it won’t be a bumpy ride.  The day of our unhappy home energy visit,  I was close to tears most of the time.  Every time the earnest conservation advocates found another energy-inadequate part of the house, I felt personally at fault.  Silly ego.  I can work on that.  The real problem is, my house is a money pit.  Being forced to face that fact yet again — when we are already strapped for funds — was painful.  I tried to be grateful and focus on the good, but I could not stop wallowing in unhappiness.

But leaky houses are a major Vermont contributor to climate change; audits show homeowners how to tighten up their homes to stop wasting energy (fossil fuels or from other sources).  I can’t just march for climate change; I have to do my best to walk that talk.  Otherwise, among other things, I would be out of coherence with my own belief system, which would surely make me unhappy.  In this case, that means insulating and sealing attic spaces where, coincidentally, raccoons have recently taken up residence.

In case you don’t know, raccoons are not nice and not cute when they invade your home.  They are clever, persistent, brazen, destructive, and loud!  In our case, they had ripped off siding to shimmy into our nice warm eaves — creating an opening to let them in and heat out.  A double problem for us.

So here’s the silver lining: our weatherization efforts will eliminate the raccoons’ ability to get inside our house.  Not only that, enrolling in an energy efficiency program means we will qualify for special tax incentives and low interest loans.   When I called Efficiency Vermont to get started, I was reassured that we can tackle our long term weatherization project in a step-by-step, kaizen kind of way.  It will still be inconvenient and expensive, but I’ll sleep so much better knowing I’m keeping the heat in — and the raccoons out!

Furthermore, the very nice contractor I spoke with would not buy into my self-pity party about my house.  He kept re-framing the issue as an opportunity.  “You have a lovely house in a great neighborhood,” he told me.  “And now you have the opportunity to make it energy efficient.”

Isn’t the same thing true with the bigger planetary picture?  Don’t we have a lovely planet in a great neighborhood?  And if we embrace the inconvenience of “weatherizing” our planet, so to speak, what silver linings might we find along the way?  I’m thinking now of metaphoric raccoons: the persistent and pernicious advertisements, come-ons, lures, and gimme’s that urge us to buy things we don’t need, with money we can’t afford to spend, for things that collectively are driving the climate change engine.  Aaahhhh …. Just imagine!  Our mental and literal attics would be so much cleaner and happier if we kicked those raccoons out, too.  That’s an inconvenience and improvement I can definitely be zen about!

 

 

 

 

What Now? Optimism and Action

The People's Climate March, September 2014

The People’s Climate March, September 2014

Have you ever wondered what choices you would have made during great upheavals of the past?  I like to believe that I would have been a suffragette — though not one who got thrown in jail and went on hunger strikes.  I also hope I would have been an abolitionist.  Again, not of the Harriet Tubman caliber;  I’m more of a supporting player, the kind who offered hiding spaces for escaping slaves.  Possibly I would have decried Abraham Lincoln for not acting fast enough to abolish slavery.

No need to mull over this question any longer.  Contemporary crises are providing plenty of opportunity to be heroic in fact, not just daydreams. We seem to be engaged in a mighty struggle between the forces of light, hope, progress, love — even our very survival as a species — against the forces of darkness, anger, and a desperation to perpetuate broken systems which are killing us. I, for one, wish to win this battle — which means, actively engaging in the struggle, like the suffragettes and abolitionists before us.

Obviously, we’re in for one helluva ride.  From mass shootings to despicable and deadly racism to unspeakable income inequality to the fossil fuel industry fighting for their profits despite the death and destruction that means for current and future generations — in the United States alone, the challenges are breathtaking. To prevail — and losing is really not an option — we must be tough in our love, strong in our hope and determination, creative, compassionate, resilient, and optimistic.  In other words, we must be happy, as peculiar as that may sound. We need to be our best.

Clearly, we won’t be walking around with smiley faces all the time.  The night of the San Bernadino massacre, I read a friend’s despairing Facebook post. I wanted to write something encouraging, but couldn’t figure out how to respond. Sometimes it’s just too dark to see.

The next morning, though, the mandate was clear:  for both collective and individual well being, we must cultivate optimism (which is a learned trait, not genetically pre-determined) and take action.  The two really go hand-in-hand — as does happiness.  Happier people are more optimistic and active, and optimistic people are happier and take action.  Abraham Lincoln, it turns out, is an inspiring role model.  Doris Kearns Godwin’s amazing book, Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abram Lincoln portrays a president who was fairly happy, despite his own and the country’s intense suffering.  He was also deeply optimistic with an admirable capacity to learn from failure and loss and move forward — to the great and lasting benefit of humankind.

Sticking with war leaders, here’s a helpful observation from Winston Churchill: “The pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity. The optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.”

That’s certainly how climate warrior Naomi Klein, author of This Changes Everything describes today’s situation.  While her book is sobering, Klein is also hopeful.  “I am convinced that climate change represents a historic opportunity,” she writes.  The needed transformations “would get to the root of why we are facing serial crises in the first place, and would leave us with both a more habitable climate than the one we are headed for and a far more just economy than the one we have right now.”

There’s a very important caveat: optimism needs to be grounded and realistic. Admiral James Stockdale, the highest ranking naval officer to be held prisoner during the Vietnam War, observed that the POWs most likely to survive that experience were those with reality-based optimism. The prisoners who thought they would be released almost immediately as well as the POWs who believed they would never be released – neither of those groups fared well.  Stockdale said, “You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the end – which you cannot afford to lose – with the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they may be.”

Our current reality has so many brutal facts, I’m not sure any of us can truly confront them all.  At the same time, we must be hopeful — and that’s not delusional.  As Howard Zinn says, “To be hopeful in bad times is based on the fact that human history is not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act.”

Even with the energy to act, you may wonder, what to do? I, for one, am going to the massive “Jobs, Justice, and Climate” rally in Boston on December 12th.  I won’t get home from the rally in time for one of my community’s traditional holiday parties, but, hello???  What would Harriet Tubman have done?  Or Elizabeth Cady Stanton?  Plus, I expect the event to be full of joy.

Joyful, yes — and totally serious.  No one should ever conflate non-violent protest — no matter how creative or playful — with a lack of grit or determination.  Still, what can you do?  The options are endless.  Take a look at this awe-inspiring list of 198 methods of non-violent action by the brilliant Gene Sharp.  There are so many more ways to get involved.  Here are some other examples:

  • Contribute to legal defense funds for those who have gone the non-violent disobedience route;
  • Put a “Black Lives Matter” sign in your front lawn;
  • Host a refugee family;
  • Just be present.  This fall, a small band of protesters camped out in the middle of  a major street in Montpelier, as part of an effort to block a fracked gas pipeline from going through Vermont.  The weather was miserable, and I heard that their spirits were low.  I went and sat with them in one of their pup tents for awhile, wanting them to know they were not alone; and
  • Feed people. When I sat with the protesters, I witnessed a steady stream of well wishers bringing food and hot coffee.  Their gifts were well received.

Whatever you do, please be kind.  There is enough hatred in the world already. Be determined, yes, and tough — but compassionate.  Here, too, we have Abraham Lincoln as a guide.  Team of Rivals describes a deeply empathetic, kind human being.  He refused to be drawn into hate speech, and had a heart full of forgiveness.  He understood that each of us is imperfect, and a product of our own times and places.  Lincoln remains a beacon of hope — along with the millions of alive and lively environmental, economic, and social justice activists worldwide.  We are the heroes we’ve been waiting for.  May we be up to the task.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the Shadow of Terrorism: Loving Kindness and Permission to be Human

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Here’s what I ate the weekend ISIS attacked Paris: pizza on Friday night; leftover pizza for breakfast, a big bowl of buttered rice and veggies at lunch, and pasta for dinner on Saturday; and on Sunday, granola for breakfast, ravioli for lunch, and more rice and dal for dinner.

Here’s how much I exercised: not much. Mostly I was a love seat potato.  I sat bundled under a blanket, just me and my laptop, with its images and articles about the Paris and Beirut terrorist attacks.  I made myself watch the disturbing home video of the exterior of the Bataclan Concert Hall, a video shot as concert goers escaped the killing.  I forced myself to read a lengthy March 2015 feature in The Atlantic, “What Isis Really Wants” and other articles that spelled out how globalization and climate change would continue to create conflicts over scarce resources.

As I immersed myself in learning, I questioned my choices.  Should I really be drenched in so much negativity? After all, I consciously never watched any Isis beheadings.  I felt the same way for a long time about watching videos of unarmed black men being fatally shot by police officers.  Eventually I decided that it was my responsibility as a United States citizen to watch some of those videos.

Saturday, I felt that same responsibility as a citizen of the world.  As soon as I heard about the carnage in Paris, I believed we had slipped into something like what Pope Francis called a “piecemeal third world war. I had to know more –and even more, when I found out about Beirut.  Why wasn’t that city receiving the same media coverage and sympathy?  Do Parisian lives really matter more than Lebanese?  What was going on? I plowed doggedly through the weekend, with my body taking on what my mind wouldn’t let me feel.

Not that all this information provided answers.  It is a big, nasty, complex mess requiring tough choices by people with higher pay grades than mine.  However, it is clear to me that both systemic and personal happiness thinking and strategies have important roles to play in the upcoming days, weeks, and years.  When you combine climate change with its droughts and natural disasters, along with the demands of an insatiable growth economy, the result will be wars, famine, and refugees.  Warning lights are flashing and the sirens are going off: we need to move toward a new economic paradigm of well being, much like that advocated by Gross National Happiness USA.

On the personal side, to stay sane and productive no matter how all this plays out, we need to invest in: nurturing and savoring relationships, growing community,building resilience, living with gratitude and meaning, practicing forgiveness (maybe not of ISIS just yet, I’m no saint), experiencing joy in the here and now, and tending to practical matters like getting a good night’s sleep.

Perhaps the two most important personal happiness strategies are kindness and permission to be human.

In the preface to Piero Ferrucci’s The Power of Kindness, the Dalai Lama wrote,  “It is clear that our very survival, even today, depends upon the acts and kindness of so many people.  … our happiness is inextricably bound up with the happiness of others.  Similarly, if society suffers, we ourselves suffer.  On the other hand, the more our hearts and minds are afflicted with ill will, the more miserable we become.  Therefore, we cannot avoid the necessity of kindness and compassion.”

Some of the necessary kindness will be on a grand scale, like the Beirut father who tackled a suicide bomber, thus sacrificing his own life but saving scores of others, including his own little girl.  Some kindnesses will become viral, like the man who saved the pregnant woman’s life in the Bataclan video.  But for most of us, most of the time, our kindness and compassion will be small because we are only human.

I learned the phrase “permission to be human” from the fabulous Tal Ben-Shahar.  He helps happiness students understand that we can do ourselves and others a big favor by embracing the fact that we are beings with bodies, biology, emotions and sometimes very whacky brains.  Permission to be human does not mean permission to misbehave, or to hurt another.  It means sometimes being a lot angrier than we would like — or feeling a myriad of other less than desirable emotions.  Last Saturday it meant my body compensated for all the work my brain was doing by demanding comfort food and lots of carbs.  Permission to be human — that is where kindness can start.  Cut our own poor hearts a little bit of slack.

Then, with more compassionate hearts, we can radiate greater kindness and understanding to friends and loved ones.  That day with my laptop, I was frustrated with friends who seemed too strident with their Beirut postings. Their reactions were different from mine, but no less valid. Permission to be human.  The next day, when I asked a friend why he was only talking about Paris and not Beirut, he was shocked.  He hadn’t heard about the Beirut suicide attackers.  Not omniscient?  Permission to be human, my friend.

The next layer is sharing kindness and compassion with our broader communities.  Later that day, I had the opportunity to do just that, when I found myself walking next to a friend of a friend.  He was weighed down by personal troubles and shared some of his sorrow as we walked.  Before going our separate ways, we hugged for a long time.

Hugs.  What a great expression of mutual kindness.

Finally, in prayer and meditation, political action and choices, and our use of social media, we can extend our kindness and compassion to wider and wider circles — even to those we don’t understand, who infuriate and frighten us.

But there are caveats and limits.

First, being kind is not being spineless, as was powerfully demonstrated by the reaction of Parisians holding a vigil for victims of the ISIS attacks.  When confronted by anti-immigrant protesters, the larger crowd rose up in love and forced the hate mongerers to back off.

I also want to shout “Boo! Boo!”– and plan to do essentially that tomorrow at a counter protest in front of the Vermont Statehouse.  In response to a previously scheduled anti-Syrian refugee, Islamaphobic protest, the word has gone out to rally in support of justice, fairness, and accepting Syrian refugees into our cold but loving state.  I will be there.

Sometimes kindness is hugs.  Sometimes it is saying loudly and non-violently, “Your actions are unacceptable!!”

Second, there are limits.  When I played Barbara Frederickson’s inspiring “Loving All” guided meditation for a meditation class this week, I just could not extend loving kindness wishes to “all.” Though Fredrickson urged listeners to emphasize “all,” I thought not only of ISIS but also of the hate-spewing, anti-Syrian, so-called political leaders.  At this point in time, I just cannot open my heart to people engaged in such mean-spirited and dangerous tactics.

Cultivating kindness and compassion is a lifelong practice.  It can be challenging in the best of times, much less in these anxious days.  I would never deliberately hurt anyone, but just now, if my heart isn’t as open as I would like it to be, so be it.  Permission to be human.  

 

 

 

Unhappiness at the Shopping Mall

Madeleine warming up to a non-mercenary Santa in a museum, not a shopping mall.

Madeleine warming up to a non-mercenary Santa in a museum, not a shopping mall.

 

The concept behind Barbara Frederickson’s and Marcial Losada’s “Positivity Ratio” is common sense: to be a happier person, you can both increase the number of positive experiences in your life and decrease your exposure to negative situations. At a certain point — the exact ratio is a matter still under scientific scrutiny — the positive to negative ratio is high enough to allow for flourishing, thriving, living our best possible lives.

  • Avoiding the negative could mean limiting your exposure to sensational news coverage, cutting back the time you spend in toxic relationships, or, in my case, staying away from shopping malls.

Shopping malls give me the heebie-jeebies. Long ago, I used to enjoy malls, but now my little Vermont heart finds them emotionally and aesthetically displeasing. Worse — much, much worse — malls are ever-grinding gears in the capitalist growth economy.which is destroying our planet one shiny trinket at a time. For me, they are the very antithesis of both personal and systemic well being.

Further, judging by my recent experience, malls are just not very happy places.

  • So why was I in a mall on, of all days, the Friday before Christmas? Well, as the late great positive psychology pioneer Chris Peterson put it, “Happiness is not a spectator sport.” This wisdom applies to many aspects of life, not the least of which is nurturing relationships and taking care of loved ones.  There are some things we just have to do.

On this particular day, my daughter Jennifer, her two-year-old daughter Madeleine, and I had spent three long days driving to be with the whole family for two weeks of togetherness (at the beach, I won’t lie to you!). We were going to spend the night with a friend of Jennifer’s, but we had arrived several hours early. It was too rainy and chilly to play outside.

Not only that, but Jennifer’s phone was dying. She is a hard-working single mom — redundant, I know, but she’s a tenure track college professor with a crazy number of demands on her time. She needs a working phone, for both professional and parental reasons.

But Jennifer’s semester had been far too busy to carve out time to go to the phone store. This day, we were near a mall, with extra time, a phone kiosk, and a toddler that needed to get out of her car seat and run around. Plus, many modern malls have indoor playgrounds which Madeleine loves. Not only that, Madeleine needed a snack. So when Jennifer suggested we go to the mall to take care of all these needs, it struck me as more important to be a loving, supportive mother and grandmother than to either whine or pontificate about how much I hate malls. Happiness is not synonymous with narcissism. Into the mall we went.

Strike one:
Immediately, we were walking through row upon row of women’s clothes, and I wanted it all. Oh, yes, I am as susceptible as the next person to the powerful forces of alluring displays and marketing magnetism — maybe even more so, since I am so rarely exposed to this stuff. I’m like an easy drunk. And I do not like this in myself.  At. All.  Right away, I was unhappy with my own shortcomings and with the whole damn money hungry mall machine but I kept quiet and kept going.

Strike two came at the playground:
Jennifer headed for the phone kiosk, leaving me determined to savor Madeleine’s enjoyment and try to block out the overwhelming stimuli all around — smells, sounds, sights — all designed to get me (& everyone else) to spend money now. The playground was in the midst of it all, but contained within by plastic walls @ three feet high, with a thick cushion floor and several modest climbing pieces for little kids to enjoy. In fact, a sign explicitly stated that the playground was only for children shorter than the sign — in other words, the pre-school set.

Yet, the small play area was filled with much older and taller children who were playing fast and hard, quite oblivious to the vulnerable young ones trying to play on the same equipment. Madeleine is a tough and brave two year old. She also loves to climb. I tried to let her do her thing, and not be an over-protective grandmother, as the hyped-up big kids dashed madly about, ready to run over any toddler in their way, or knock a little one off the climbing structure. These kids were not being mean — they were just out of control, and in the wrong play area for their ages.  Twice, I said to them, “watch out for the little kids!” Each time, there was a only slight pause before the mayhem resumed.

Finally, Madeleine had enough and asked to leave. I was more than happy to go along with her choice.

I can’t blame the kids. They were playing, and isn’t that what children are supposed to do?  I just wondered, where are their parents? I looked, and looked — their parents were nowhere to be found. Madeleine was in that play area for at least a half hour, and the parents (or other responsible adults) never came by to make sure everything was fine (which it wasn’t). Over and over, I wondered, where are the parents???  Or even a mall employee?

Very sad.  What is wrong with our systems that children are left alone — in blatant disobedience to posted rules — for such a long period of time?  Are unsupervised children deemed an acceptable price to pay for more money being spent?

Strike three:
Next up was snack time. The playground was adjacent to the food court, but have any of you tried recently to find a healthy snack for a two year old at a mall food court??? Really, how much of this stuff is even really food? There were cookies, pretzels, candy, pizza, Chinese food, and burgers that I wouldn’t have minded putting in my own system but that I was not about to feed to Madeleine.

Finally, I resorted to Starbucks, despite the fact that I am currently trying to boycott Starbucks (because, as a member of the Grocery Manufacturers Association, they have teamed up with Monsanto in a lawsuit against the state of Vermont because our representative democracy passed a law requiring GMO labeling of all food sold in our own state). Once again, taking care of my beloved grandchild triumphed over my political scruples. In Starbucks, I bought her a yogurt, granola, and strawberry parfait that seemed reasonably healthy.

As we sat in the food court, Madeleine happily ate her parfait while I watched more unhappy, unsupervised children at the next table. There were three children, roughly six to 10 years old, apparently siblings, and they were not having a good time. The oldest and youngest (both boys) were fighting, and the oldest somehow made the youngest cry in pain. Later, the youngest got his revenge by using his feet to smash a package on the floor — a bag containing what appeared to be the oldest’s new pair of sunglasses. The middle child — a girl — sat impassively throughout.

This went on for some time — half an hour maybe? I wanted to help somehow, but could not figure out what to do, other then tend to the little one in my care as we waited for her mother. Jennifer showed up, and then all three of us sat there for a while longer — and still the unhappy trio was alone at the table next to us.

Again, where were their parents?? Whatever the answer — maybe they had to wait while mom or dad was working, not shopping — it was a sad situation.  More mall fall-out?  Or just the way it is these days?  Either way, something is wrong here.

Strike Four: $anta Claus
Okay, I have nothing against Santa Claus. I like Christmas. I like this special family time, and exchanging small and thoughtful gifts — or, in our case, buying each other the experience of a vacation. I want this time of year to be magical for Madeleine (though not greed-inducing).

So when Jennifer’s phone transaction was finally completed, and we could at last escape this large glittery bastion of suffering, I initially had no problem stopping at the Santa Claus booth on our way out. Madeleine likes Santa Claus — she calls him, “a good friend.”

But there was, in fact, a problem: visiting Santa, like everything else in a shopping mall, is just another opportunity to turn parents into consumers and cajole more money from them.

Maybe my age is showing here, but as I recall, when my kids were little, the department store and mall Santa Claus’s were free. Sure, they were a way to lure parents into particular stores or malls, but the actual Santa experience did not directly involve commerce.

Not anymore. Now, it is all about buying photos of your child on Santa’s lap.  It is about commerce, not magic.

Technically, visiting this Santa was free, but as we came to the front of the line — staffed by photographer/salespeople, not elves — we were asked whether we were just visiting Santa or were there to buy photos. When the answer was, “just visiting,” I got the distinct impression that we had just become second class citizens in Santa’s workshop.

Madeleine was fine. She had a good time. She wouldn’t let Santa hold her on his lap, but she glowed all the same.

I was happy for her, but turning Santa into $anta cast a pall over the experience.  Is nothing sacred?

  • Speaking of sacred, this morning, a friend posted a great quote by Bill Moyers (another redundancy?) that sums it up nicely: “I believe that the fundamental war we are engaged in is one between a paradigm that commodifies everything and everyone, and a paradigm in which life, community, nature and our obligation to future generations is actually held as sacred.”

Yes, oh yes. I do hold life, community and nature as sacred. That is why I work for a gross national happiness paradigm and helping others grow their own personal happiness paradigms, governed by genuine well being, not internalized, insatiable, GDP-inspired desire.  As for holding my obligation to future generations as sacred, that is part of the reason I pour so much effort into helping my daughter raise Madeleine, in addition to the fact that I’m flat out in love with her. Even in that mall, the love between us was sacred — as it was for many others in the mall, I am sure — but not much else was or is likely to be sacred in any shopping mall in the near future.

Of course, there is much in life that is far more negative than shopping malls — but on both a personal and big picture level, it all adds up.  Thus, for my positivity ratio and yours — and that of future generations — here’s to a happy new year far far away from shopping malls. Salud!

Is It Time to Get Arrested for Happiness?

Is it time for this middle aged grandmother to try on a pair of handcuffs?

Why, yes, perhaps it is.  I don’t have a date penciled in my calendar, but I can feel it coming closer.  For my own personal happiness, for your personal happiness, and for a happier planet, I suspect I will soon respectfully engage in non-violent civil disobedience.

Such a possibility is not a new idea.  It’s been resting somewhere in the back of my consciousness since I first became involved in the Gross National Happiness movement.  As I became increasingly aware of the enormous and urgent challenge of changing our economic structure to avoid environmental apocalypse, I’ve wondered if there might come a day when I would need to really put myself on the line.  The entrenched systems we must change for a liveable planet are massive and powerful.  Weening ourselves off fossil fuels and shifting from a growth economy to a new economy of well being is possible but it will be a very, very hard struggle.

And, as the prayer of the Hopi elder says, “we are the ones we’ve been waiting for” — not, they are the ones we’ve been waiting for.

Maeve McBride, organizer for 350 Vermont and mother of two being led away from Governor Peter Shumlins office on Monday night.  63 other protestors were arrested with her.

Maeve McBride, organizer for 350 Vermont and mother of two,  being led away from Governor Peter Shumlin’s office on Monday night. 63 other protestors were arrested with her.

Thoughts of arrest rose to the surface this past week thanks to the actions of 64 brave Vermonters — from teens through grandparents, men, women, students, farmers, professors, all walks of life — who stood up for the love of Vermont, the planet, and future generations by sitting down.  Sitting down, that is, in Governor Peter Shumlin’s office until he agreed to shut down a pipeline for fracked gas or until they got arrested, whichever came first.  No surprise what happened. They were arrested for trespassing — an event that was beautifully captured on video.

I was so grateful to and proud of the Vermonters who put themselves on the line that night.  For several hours, I was one of the 500 or so supporters who rallied outside the office building to raise our voices against fossil fuel infrastructure and for those risking arrest on the inside of the building.  Rising Tide Vermont was one of the rally and sit-in’s sponsoring organizations; check out their website for information about the ongoing pipeline struggle.

As I chanted, clapped, sang, and sometimes yelled as hard as I could, I felt waves of emotion: anger and frustration at a governor who talks the climate change talk, but is not walking the walk; despair at the seemingly immeasurable depths of corporate greed; joy at being in community with strangers united in common purpose; admiration of citizen courage, commitment, and creativity; and heartbreak looking at the babies around me and wondering what climate change will mean for them.

I also felt heartbroken as farmers and parents from affected parts of Vermont testified about what this pipeline means to them, and the beautiful fragile natural landscape which we all love.  Even Lake Champlain is not sacred — Governor Shumlin wants the fracked gas pipeline to be built under this precious, already-threatened shining jewel in the crown that is Vermont’s landscape.  I was appalled to realize that our governor plans to throw Vermont and Vermonters under the bus in this way.

So I yelled and clapped wholeheartedly — until it was time to leave for my Monday night yoga class.  Big mistake.  Oh, I know self-care is important, especially as we age.  Yoga is vital to my physical and spiritual well being.  Yet the whole drive home, my body was practically screaming at me to turn around.  How could I be going to yoga when other Vermonters were awaiting arrest?  I was so distracted driving home, it’s a wonder I didn’t have an accident.  I was in the wrong place at the right time.

I don’t want to make that mistake again.

We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.

There are a lot of brave people out there.  I’ve watched Bill McKibben, Gus Speth and others getting arrested in Washington, DC to focus America’s attention on the need to block the Keystone pipeline.  We’ve all seen video of non-violent Occupy Wall Street resisters getting pepper-sprayed.  Courageous eco-warriors worldwide are fighting for not only a livable future but a livable present, like the Marshall Islanders taking to their kayaks to block coal shipments and fight for the very survival of their nation.

Realistically,  it is safe and civilized here in Vermont. In the video, you can see how courteous the whole episode was.  There is not a high likelihood of pepper spray here!  Also, I’m self employed, so don’t have to worry about any ramifications from a corporate employer.  And I wouldn’t be stepping outside of societal norms; my community would be very supportive — as I am supportive of those who have already donned the handcuffs.

Still, the prospect is sobering.  When Bob and I talked about this last night, it was a subdued and sad conversation.  How unfortunate, indeed, that even here in Vermont — the Green Mountain State — caring, committed citizens have to be willing to go to jail for our voices to be heard.  Right there, that’s worth a good cry.

Our beautiful Vermont.

Our beautiful Vermont.

 So, how then does this relate to happiness?

First of all, if Mother Nature ain’t happy, ain’t nobody gonna be happy.  Both a healthy environment and good governance are fundamental planks of any Gross National Happiness system. That’s pretty basic.

Second, on the personal level, this might be a good moment to observe that happiness is not about having a smiley face all the time!  Certainly, I’m all for feeling the joy — and there is much joy in working together for a better world, especially when one of the bands is playing — but happiness is also about being authentic, living in concordance with our values, working toward goals, following a meaningful path, being in community, and being so engaged in life that time just seems to stand still.

For me, raising my voice also means working from my strengths.  I am not a scientist or a political strategist.  But I am an extrovert, and I can show up when organizers put out the call. Or even when they don’t call!  I think my first “protest march” happened in the summer before I entered second grade.  While my parents were downstairs watching the Democratic National Convention — they supported Adlai Stevenson — my siblings and I were upstairs chanting, “We want Kennedy!  We want Kennedy!”  Talk about being authentic — I guess I’m just a born rabble rouser.

By the way, though I haven’t seen any happiness studies on this topic, all you older folk should know: I feel so much younger in these climate action crowds.  I love, love, love how thoroughly mixed these crowds are in terms of generation.  We are all in it together, and it feels great to be on the same team with teenagers, great grandparents, and everyone in between.

Standing on the side of love.

That word, love, crops up for me a lot.  “Standing on the side of love” is a rallying cry for the Unitarian Universalist Association, of which I am a member.  And for me, that’s what it really boils down to — love.  Love for the entire astounding planet, as well as the little piece of it called Vermont and the people who live here.  On the day after the arrests, with a heart full of love,  I listened repeatedly to one of Vermont’s musical treasures, Jon Gailmor’s “For the Love of Vermont.”  I so want to do my best for this land I love!

At one point during Monday’s demonstration, three awesome teenagers from my own neighborhood were marching right in front of me — I felt such love for those beautiful young ladies!  But the strongest motivator of all is love for my own grandchild — and for all your children and grandchildren too.  For family and friends.  For summers and rainbows and loons.  For the grandeur of autumn foliage. For blueberries, garlic cloves, and snow shoeing in the woods with a dear friend. For the whole crazy package that is life. Love, love, love.

Right now, when I think about engaging in civil disobedience, I am not feeling anger or hate or fear or blame — it is love.  Just love.

And that means happiness.

 

 

 

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