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Human Connections, Human Happiness

Free hugs at Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, NY.

Free hugs at Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, NY.

Our connections with fellow humans — either fleeting or lasting for many decades — are the sine qua non of happiness (ie, without relationships with others, there is no happiness, and that’s about it for my 8th grade Latin).  Simultaneously, these connections can be vexing, painful, or unpleasantly surprising.  However, because we do in fact need each other, it makes sense to heed the Dalai Lama’s advice when it comes to our interactions with others.

This is the advice I have in mind, from one of the Dalai Lama’s books I read years ago: in every interaction we have, we can make the other person happier, or less happy.  That is powerful.  Every single time we make a human connection, we can either add to or decrease the other person’s happiness.

Not that we are responsible for others’ happiness entirely.  But it is quite a moral responsibility when put in those terms.

And, it may also be highly practical, because, well, you never know.

Let me tell you a little story, one of my favorites.  I’m quite pleased to find a happiness hook that gives me an excuse to share it.

The story takes place way back in 1968, when I was 14 years-old.  I was third of six kids, and we didn’t have a lot of money.  So the fact that I was by myself in our living room, listening to the Beatles’ Sargent Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album was unusual.  I loved that album, which I bought with hard-earned babysitting money.  Loved, loved. I was happily singing along with all my blissed-out teenage heart when a friend of my oldest sister walked through the room.  Let’s call him Paul.  Paul was handsome, witty, charismatic.  I had a bit of an unrequited crush on him.  When Paul paused at the front door and turned to speak to me, I was all a flutter, thrilled that he was stooping to talk to me!

“Do you know my definition of stupid?” he asked.

“No,” I quickly replied.  “What is it?”

“People who sing along to the Beatles,” he responded before turning around and exiting my house.

All these years later, I can’t quite remember how little and unworthy that remark made me feel. Instead, this story has become a family joke.  You see, just three years later, I married Paul’s younger brother Bob.  When Paul made that offhand remark to me, he could never possibly have imagined that I would be his sister-in-law for, oh, just about 45 years so far — and that I would never let him forget that brief interaction!

Not that I blame the funny, self-assured 18 year-old that he was then.  It was a long, long time ago, and that moment in time has been superseded by many another loving and supportive word or act (like driving Bob and me to the hospital to have our first baby, and doing Ed Sullivan imitations along the way).

No, the reason I love this story is, it clearly shows, when we connect with people, making them happier or less happy, we have no idea what roles we might play in each other’s lives in the future.  So being nice is both good common sense, and good karma sense.

Consider the case posted on Twitter last month about an angry man who cursed at another commuter on London’s Tube.  Not only did the angry man add to someone else’s unhappiness in the moment — he added to his own.  He arrived at a job interview a little while later and discovered that the man he had just cussed at was the interviewer.  He did not get the job.

That’s a very graphic — and karmic — illustration of how interactions can affect our own happiness as well.  As Donovan so beautifully warbled many years ago, happiness runs in a circular motion.

It’s also interesting to think about what might have happened if the angry man in the Tube had somehow connected with the interviewer in a more positive way during their commutes.  Perhaps he would have gotten the job?  Perhaps they would have had an ongoing, positive relationship?

Certainly, connections do not need to be lengthy to be significant.  Two summers ago, I was wearing one of my favorite dresses (very happy, covered in blue daisies) as I walked toward the library.  A woman I had never seen before, or since, was walking in the opposite direction.  As she neared me, she said, “You look very nice today, ma’am.” That’s all.  But she made me smile, and feel good.  I beamed a very genuine, “Thank you!” in her direction.

Certainly I’ve been on the proactive side of the equation many times. Recently, while vacationing with our cute-as-a-button two year old grandchild, we sang to and for total strangers in an open-hearted way that is hard to imagine without an innocent babe involved.  We were received in the same open-hearted way, again no doubt thanks to our granddaughter’s presence.  Otherwise, we grown ups aren’t normally this sweet to folks we don’t know.

That’s kinda sad.

In The Gifts of Imperfection, Brene Brown defines “connection as the energy that exists between people when they feel seen, hear, and valued; when they can give and receive without judgment; and when they derive sustenance and strength from the relationship.”  She also states, “we are wired for connection.  It’s in our biology.  From the time we are born, we need connection to thrive emotionally, physically, spiritually, and intellectually.”

Even without cute babies, strangers can give that to each other.  Tal Ben-Shahar tells a story of an early, early morning at an airport, a morning at the start of a long flight, a morning when he was not at his happiest — until a woman who worked at the airport bestowed a warm and kind smile on him.  That brief but genuine connection cheered him up so much, he continues to tell the story year after year as part of his lecture on making the choice to smile more often.  I love it.  Done judiciously, it’s such an easy win-win.

Of course, our most meaningful connections are found in relationships of longer duration — but every relationship has to start somewhere.  Some connections we’re born into.  Most, we have to establish.  I remember the beginning of my friendships with two of my dearest friends in Vermont, Judy and Eric.  We had lived here only a few weeks, and I felt lost among the many happy strangers at the Maple Corner Fourth of July bash — until this kind and interesting couple took the time to chat with me, the newcomer, the stranger.  None of us knew that a deep and abiding friendship was being born.  I was just grateful that these two were being nice to me, seeing, hearing, and valuing me.  Connection.

It’s all about the nice, within limits. The point is to add to the world’s supply of happiness — yours included.  As a recent meme on Facebook put it, “you are not required to provide heat to others by setting yourself on fire.”  Sometimes the best we can do is not infect others with our glumness.

There is also the question of authenticity.  Who are you?  What is the best way for you to make connections — deeper connections with loved ones, new and even one-time connections with strangers?  Who may or may not end up married to someone in your family. Or giving you a job.

For most of us, it would be inauthentic to like the man in the photo, a fellow visitor to Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, New York last September.  He wasn’t on staff, he wasn’t leading any workshops — he just wanted to give hugs.  He was so sensitive about it, too.  No one got a hug who didn’t want one.  He just wore this sign while he was there, and hugged whoever responded.

They were good hugs, too.  Oh, yes, I took advantage of this opportunity to connect.  He made me happier.  He made lots of people happier.

That is my aspiration, too — I want to make lots of people happier. It’s a choice we all can make, each of us in our own style.

Good common sense. Good karma sense. Just plain good.

 

 

Meditation Saved My Marriage!!

My husband Bob going volcanic

My husband Bob going volcanic

“If at bottom we are fighters and flee-ers, greedy and addictive, and envious and mean-spirited, then we need to be kept in line by powerful authority figures, strict rules, and heavy guilt and shame.  On the other hand, if underneath it all we are even keeled, grateful, and warmhearted, then we can live more freely, more guided by our own conscience and caring.”  — Rick Hanson, Hardwiring for Happiness. (p.32)

I’m happy to report that, apparently, underneath it all, I am even keeled and warm hearted.  Indeed, I have evidence that my actions can be more guided by caring than by the need to fight.  I can state all this today, on a grey late winter Saturday afternoon, because one week ago my husband’s actions had me at a crossroads.  Down one road lay a fight.  Down the other was compassion.  I am quite sure that in years past, I would have been very pissed, and would have initiated some kind of marital battle.  Instead, I’d say I chose compassion — but the truth is, compassion chose me.  I wanted to feel angry, I felt I should be angry — but it just wasn’t there.  My brain has changed.

All of which tells me that you, too, are “underneath it all” those same good qualities, because I believe my brain changed due to a regular meditation practice.  Nothing remarkable, and nothing you can’t also do. In fact, I couldn’t wait to share my discovery with all my meditation classes last week, to let my students know that my personal experience proved to me the truth of research around the benefits of meditation. Not that I doubted Harvard, Yale, and the University of Wisconsin … Still, it was quite exciting to say to my students, if I can do it — and I did — so can you.

Before I describe what happened, I hasten to reassure you (especially any family members reading this!) that, to say that the headline of this blog is an exaggeration is itself a gross understatement.  And that picture of him “going volcanic” is really … ummm … quite a few decades old.  I’m just having a little fun here.

The incident itself was only fun for one of us, and that one was not me.

Bob, on the other hand, had a blissful Saturday night at the annual Men of Maple Corner “Scotch Slop.”  This traditional event began several years ago in response to the annual Women of Maple Corner Yankee Gift Exchange, to which no men are invited because, after a quick survey, we determined no men wanted to come.  Plus, we never schedule the women’s event on a “date night.”

Anyway …

The timing of this year’s event was unfortunate for two reasons.  First, Saturday was the night we turned the clocks back, thereby automatically losing an hour of sleep.  Second, I was scheduled to deliver a sermon on happiness at my Unitarian Church of Montpelier the next morning — a very big event for me.  This was also a semi-big event for Bob, because he and the rest of the Montpelier Ukulele Players were an important part of the service.  They were on tap for the prelude (“When You’re Smiling”), special music (“What a Wonderful World”), and postlude (“Happy Trails”).  In other words, Bob and I could both use a good night’s sleep.

So, in the days leading up to the Scotch Slop, I repeatedly asked Bob, “please don’t get drunk.”  Not that Bob is any way a drunkard, but I really really didn’t want him to be hungover on this particular Sunday morning.  His reply to me was, “I usually do pretty well.”  Which seemed fair.  He hasn’t come home stinking drunk before.

Before last Saturday, that is.

That night, I went to bed early and slept for a few hours before waking up and realizing Bob wasn’t home yet.  Not a good sign.  My fears about a) how drunk he might be and b) how safe he might be (he was walking home, and it was seriously cold and the roads — covered in sludge which had melted during the day but frozen again after dark — were slick and difficult for even a sober person to navigate) quickly had me wide awake.

Fortunately, it wasn’t long before he walked in the door.  I asked, “How drunk are you?”  He responded, loopily and happily, “Preeeettttty drunk!  It was so happy!  So many nice people!” Then he fell asleep, loudly.  Stinking of Scotch.

I did not fall back asleep, not for hours.  I left the bedroom and tried the sofa.  After a bit, I left the sofa in favor of the guest room.  No luck there, either.  As you can imagine, this did not make me happy.

Yet, that’s when the magic happened. Or at least, appreciation of the magic that has already happened in my brain.

As I lay there, trying every meditation trick I could think of to get back to sleep, I was intensely aware that my time for sleep — before my big morning in the pulpit — was slipping away.  I also realized, amazingly, that I was not pissed off.  Instead, I felt compassion for Bob.  Not compassion as in “suffering with” — he certainly wasn’t suffering — but more a sharing of joy that he had enjoyed a night of fun companionship with the men of our community.  Maple Corner has a lot of good men, and I was glad for all of the Scotch Sloppers that night.  They do their best to do the right thing — for the planet, for the community, for their families.  If one night a year they gather and get drunk, fine.  Totally fine.

As for Bob specifically, he’s an introvert who didn’t really have friends of his own before we moved to Vermont.  He certainly didn’t participate in the community (not that there was much of a community to be part of).  I am proud of, and happy for, how he has grown here.  He took his responsibility to attend the Scotch Slop seriously.  It was really kinda cute.  Also, he didn’t purposefully rob me of sleep.  Though his choices that night had a negative impact on me, he is normally exceptionally helpful and supportive.  So, it was one bad night. Big deal.

This lack of anger — a clear contrast to how I would have reacted in the past — stands out for me as clear proof that meditation has changed my brain structure for the better.

Meditation isn’t my only happiness practice.  I have a daily routine, which includes watching (& singing and dancing to) inspirational videos; these two by Louis Armstrong and Bruce Springsteen are current favorites.  I also have a daily anticipations journal, a reminder bracelet, a savoring alarm on my phone, and an evening gratitude journal — really, it’s a wonder I have time to do anything else in my life, what with all these sincere  attempts to walk the happiness talk.  Also, because I teach happiness skills, and coach, and write about it … well, the general topic and all that it entails (living a life of meaning and pleasure, being kind, all that good stuff) are never far from my thoughts, feelings, and actions.

Presumably, all this has changed me.  Sometimes I respond to life in ways that surprise me.  Last week, for example, walking on a snowy trail through the woods that opened up onto a sunny, snow covered meadow, I found myself bursting into little ballerina twirls of happiness.  Like a child, just breathing into spontaneous joy.

But who can really tell cause and effect?  Is one particularly fierce hurricane due to climate change?  No one can say.  Still, when there is a pattern of extreme and weird weather conditions (how much snow did Boston get this year??), then maybe something is really going on.

Nonetheless, I specifically attribute my calm and compassionate thoughts and feelings in the sleepless hours of Saturday night to my meditation practice. In particular, I’ve been doing a lot of meditation which corresponds to the three different operating systems in our brains, as discussed by neuro psychologist Rick Hanson in a book I think everyone should read,  Hardwiring for Happiness: The New Brain Science of Contentment, Calm, and Confidence.

Hanson explains that the three major layers of the brain (brain stem, subcortex and cortex) correspond with three operating system that 1) avoid harm, 2) approach rewards, and 3) attach to others.  These systems function to meet our basic needs of safety, satisfaction, and connection — or, writ large, as Hanson himself does in a guided meditation as part of his online Foundations of Well-Being course, “peace, contentment, and love.” I have modified that somewhat to “peace, love, safety, and abundance” — four words that I breathe in and out on a nearly daily basis.

My understanding, based on Hanson’s book and course, is that this meditation is like putting money in the bank for each system, thus allowing my brain to respond to a perceived “crisis” in a calm and compassionate manner, rather than flare up in an intense reactive mode.

And my belief is that I have, to a certain extent at least, re-wired my brain, exactly as Hanson promises. I’m also reminded of this video by Dan Harris, who states that the science favoring a regular meditation practice “is really compelling” including studies that show meditation leads to a growth of the part of our brains responsible for compassion while also shrinking the reactive amygdala.  No wonder, as Hanson says, meditators can become more “even keeled, grateful, and warmhearted.

I have to say, I am convinced.

The next morning, by the way, Bob was not hungover and both the ukulele players and the sermon itself went smoothly and were well received.

Afterwards, in the back of the sanctuary, I was talking with some of my choir friends about the sermon, and some of the ways positive psychology suggests we can cultivate personal happiness.  One of my friends asked, “But does it really work? Are you happier?”

I smiled and said, why yes, yes I am.  In fact, I have proof.  Let me tell you a story from last night …

Thus has my sleepless night turned into a gift, a learning tool I can share with others.  I am actually grateful to Bob for the learning opportunity he provided me.

I am also grateful the Scotch Slop only happens once a year!

 

 

 

Saying Goodbye, Happily

Artisans Gallery in Waitsfield, Vermont.

The charming Artisans’ Gallery in Waitsfield, Vermont.

The mind is its own place, and in itself, can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.” — John Milton

Despite the almost Biblical nature of John Milton’s quote, the story at the center of this blog entry is solidly grounded in earthly concerns.  Specifically, I tried to frame a mild business setback into something bigger and more painful than it was (not a recommended happiness strategy!) before ultimately choosing a more positive frame — a re-framing which contributed to a happy winter morning for me and everyone else with whom I interacted that day.

The story began when Artisans’ Gallery severed our 12-year relationship (detailed below).  It was just a moment in my long life, but here’s the thing: all we have are moments.  In each one of our precious moments, we choose.  With both minor and major life choices, our minds can make any situation more heavenly or more hellish.  In this way, we shape our lives and we impact the lives of others.

Thus, every moment is important.

Positive psychology offers a variety of tools to help our minds choose a happier path.  In my Artisans’ Gallery story, I used re-framing, benefit finding, and consideration of my personal intersection of talent, meaning, and pleasure. Aristotle said, “Where your talents cross with the needs of the world lies your vocation.”  Add meaning and pleasure and, well, my departure from Artisans’ Gallery was long overdue.

Of course, some moments are way more momentous — on both ends of the emotional spectrum.  Re-framing and benefit finding aren’t necessary for blissful moments (savoring and gratitude might come in handy then). On the other hand, these tools may be very hard to access during times of deep suffering, when we need them most.  Practicing these strategies during the regular travails of life will help build your re-framing and benefit finding muscles — literally, carving new or stronger neuro-pathways in the brain — so you can more readily use them during your times of emotional heavy lifting.  Taking the time to see the heavenly on “normal” days (for example, “thanks to the dark days of winter, I can enjoy colored lights in the living room”) will serve you well when your best re-frame may be, “I know the pain won’t always be this acute.”

Because even then, our minds can step back just a bit from Hell.  As Auschwitz survivor Viktor Frankl put it in Man’s Search for Meaning, “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”

My Artisans’ Gallery Story

I was doing exactly the wrong thing last week when I made the beautiful drive down scenic Route 100 to Artisans’ Gallery.  “Hell” is a bit strong, and so is “Heaven” — but on a very low key level, as I drove, my mind was trying hard to turn a good situation into one of pain and suffering. It was like I was mentally picking a scab to make it bleed.

You see, my mission in going to this charming, consignment gallery was to pick up the remaining pieces of my watercolor jewelry in stock because they were no longer selling. Artisans’ Gallery had written me an apologetic note, asking me to remove my work and make way for a new artist.  Their request wasn’t unexpected — my check for December had been a measly $16.00 — but I had enjoyed my relationship with this gallery.

Now, I was the jilted party.  Theoretically, that’s a bad role to occupy, so I kept trying to make it hurt. Only, there was no pain and suffering.  I was actually happy to close this door.

That’s because,the  re-frame was so obvious.  My work life as a happiness activist and advocate is quite full.  There is no room anymore for me to paint watercolor pins and earrings.  The letter from Artisans’ Gallery  liberated me and them from our outdated relationship.

Further, making these tiny art pieces is no longer in concordance with my values.  Oh, I certainly believe in and treasure having art and beauty in our lives, but when I began making my jewelry in the 1990s, I did not consider the environmental impact of using copious amounts of nail polish (to seal the watercolor paintings) and other chemicals I used in the process. I still have some leftover chemicals, so I could kinda justify making more, but, I really didn’t want to. My conscience protested the very idea.

If happiness is found in the nexus of meaning and pleasure, as Tal Ben-Shahar suggests, it was long past time to say goodbye to Artisans’ Gallery.  When you throw in Aristotle’s advice to combine one’s own strengths with society’s needs … well, I have more important strengths to meet deeper societal needs than painting happy jewelry (which was fun, I’ll admit, but that is not where I am anymore).

As for benefit finding, there is still one gallery I am working closely with, a gallery in my home town of Montpelier.  The pieces I picked up from Artisans’ Gallery are mostly pretty nice items I can now deliver to Artisans Hand.  Also, my community has a very sweet craft show every December, and I love being one of its exhibitors.  It is such a social occasion!  I had thought perhaps this last December was my final opportunity to be part of that show, since I am finally running out of stock.  Now, I can be part of that show at least one more time.

The biggest benefit, though, is that I am increasingly feeling the need to say no to some parts of my life in order to say yes to other, higher priority activities. Artisans’ Gallery made that “no” easy.  I’m grateful for that.

The bottom line is, I arrived at Artisans’ Gallery in a very chipper mood.  When I told the woman behind the counter why I was there, she immediately put on a sad face and began, so sympathetically, to tell me how much the gallery hates this part of the business.  “No,” I said, “it’s really fine. I stopped making these a long time ago.  No wonder they aren’t selling!” She visibly relaxed and we had a pleasant chat as I packed up.

Turns out, she’s related to some of my neighbors.  We had a good time exploring that connection.

My mood remained high at my next stops, and the one after that.  Finally, it was time for the first meeting of one of the “Meditating for Happiness” classes I am teaching. Coming from a re-framed, benefit finding, living in concordance with my talent and meaning stance, I was smiling and happy with all these folks, taught them well, and received smiles and happiness and good learning beamed right back at me.

What a great day! I was spinning in a cycle of happiness hour after hour, giving and receiving loving human connection. In other words, heaven on earth.

 

Only Three Positive Things?Or, Remembering to be Happy While Flying

 

A hopeful sign of moving in the right direction: O'Hare airport's vegetable garden!

A hopeful sign of moving in the right direction: O’Hare airport’s vegetable garden!

Last Saturday morning, I had an early flight to western North Carolina to celebrate a friend’s 70th birthday.   I’ve been trying to say “yes” to life’s opportunities more often, so when the invitation came from my friend Lynn, I figured out a way to afford the airfare.  I also love that part of North Carolina.  These friends live about an hour east of Asheville, where the mountains are spectacular.  Plus, I have another dear friend — a high school era BFF — an hour west of Asheville.  This was a chance to spend time with her, too.  It was all very last minute, but I said, “yes!”  Yes, to a pleasant, meaningful, happy trip.

Then in the car, I started complaining to my husband as he drove me to the airport.  I said, I’d be much more excited if I was driving*, not flying — because, of course, everyone “knows” flying is just no fun anymore.  It wasn’t major complaining, but I was definitely leaning into my brain’s negativity bias (which, by the way, your brain has, too!).

Yet,  about an hour later, when I heard the pilot speak in a delightful Irish brogue, I realized, “I’m having fun! I’m enjoying my air travel experience!”

That realization made me think about the power of intention, and attention.  In any given moment, we  choose (usually sub-consciously) what we pay attention to — and what we don’t pay attention to, don’t even see.  It is simply impossible to pay attention to everything all the time.   We can consciously choose to focus on the positive, or we can choose the negative.   If you doubt the power of attention, try this quick video test.  I’ve seen other versions, but I think this gets the message across.

In turn, that led me to mull over  one of the fads currently making the rounds on Facebook.  I’ve been repeatedly challenged to “name three positive things” each day for a week.  I’m not at all opposed to the “three positive things ritual,” but buckled in my seat and waiting for take-off,  I thought, “Why just three?  What if I count all day?  How many positives will I rack up?”

It was immediately apparent that counting all the positives is impossible.  I mean, the sun rises and my heart beats and I have running water.  Not to mention, I was about to be, as comedian Louis C.K. puts it, “partaking in the miracle of flight.” I also wake up almost every day in Vermont, a place that is so special to me and where I am always grateful to live.  The scenery between my house and the airport is stunningly beautiful.  On a more personal note, I wake up most days next to a loving and devoted husband, to whom I am also enormously grateful.  Etc.  Life overflows with positives.  With all that as a baseline, here are just a few positives from August 30, 2014:

  1. Yay for a 7:30 AM flight! Many flights leave Burlington at 6:00 AM.  It is ever so much more civilized to leave the house at 5:30 AM than to leave at 4:00 AM.
  2. For some reason, I was totally prepared and ready to roll out of bed and into the car.  Patting myself on the back!
  3. Bob offered to accompany me into the airport, not just drop me off outside.  So sweet.  So Bob.
  4. The check-in was totally smooth and pleasant.  I didn’t even have to use one of those automatic machines which make me anxious.  Instead, I got to deal with a pleasant and helpful human being.
  5. Yay for Skinny Pancake!  It makes me happy to have this Vermont franchise, with its emphasis on local and organic products, in the airport gate area.  Plus, I could buy bottled water from them in a resusable glass battle!  Awesome.eat-more-kale-sticker
  6. Coffee!! ‘nuf said.
  7. Pleasant interaction with a woman and her young adult son waiting to board.  They were flying to Colorado for the start of  his college career.  Fun to wish them both well.
  8. Pleased to have a seatmate who doesn’t want to talk (though, I would probably also be pleased to have a seatmate who does want to talk!)
  9. Phew!!  Especially pleased that this seatmate (a young man) seems to have a pleasant disposition.  That is, he didn’t get upset when I spilled water all over him.
  10. Good thing it wasn’t coffee.
  11. Flying over my beloved Vermont and seeing some special spots from the air (like Shelburne Pond).
  12. Glad I chose only yogurt at the Skinny Pancake and not a muffin.  I always seem to gain weight while traveling.  At least I’m off to a good start.
  13. Happy also to fly over the Adirondacks, a magnificent wilderness area I can often see from the Vermont side of Lake Champlain.  Though I would love to spend some time on the ground in the Adirondacks, we never do, because Vermont’s mountains  constantly beckon.  So it’s nice to get a good view of the Adirondacks this morning.
  14. It is a beautiful summer day.
  15. I laughed out loud (but not too loud) when the flight attendant announced, “For the comfort of other passengers, please securely close the door behind you when you use the lavatory.”
  16. I was inspired to write!  I so love it when I am visited by inspiration.
  17. An article in the in-flight magazine about Dutch aeronautical student Boyan Slat, who has developed a method of cleaning up the massive floating plastic garbage dump in the Pacific Ocean, fills me with hope.
  18. Traveling with a bathroom.  Really, that’s soooo much better than mile after increasingly stressful mile in the car, wondering where I can possibly stop to use the restroom.
  19. Feeling like such a goofus on the plane — bumped my head, scrawled some ink on the back of the seat in front of me, and of course spilled water on my seatmate — but (and here’s the positive) — feeling so okay with this.  Sometimes I get to be in a group where I am the wise one or sparkle in some other way.  Sometimes, I’m the goofus.  It is really okay.
  20. Plenty of peacefulness on the plane, making it easy to meditate.
  21. Appreciating the fact that meditation has become a joy and not a chore, and that I no longer worry about whether I’m doing it “right.”  I know it’s right by how I feel, even squished into a tiny seat on a crowded plane.
  22. More signs of hope.  They are everywhere, it seems.  Solar panels, windmills, and, in Chicago’s O’Hare airport, of all places, a poster about the airport’s own vegetable garden.  Awareness seems to be growing re sustainability changes we all need to make.
  23. I love Vermont but it is exceptionally homogenous.  It is fun for me to see such a diverse population as the passengers in O’Hare.
  24. Talking with my granddaughter on the phone — really, talking with my daughter, because my granddaughter was too happy playing in the background for a phone call right now.  I think that’s great.  I’m happy she’s happy.
  25. Fun exchange with the flight attendant about the fact that non-dairy creamer is a poor substitute for half-n-half.
  26. I did NOT lose my laptop in the Charlotte airport!  I put it down near the baggage claim area, to call my friend Lynn and let her know my status.  After I grabbed my suitcase from the carousel and started walking away, I realized I no longer had my laptop with me!  Mild panic set in, but I went back to where I made the phone call, and there was my laptop.  So, so relieved.  That would have put a real damper on this positivity list!  Instead, it’s one of the highlights.
  27. Yay for “Eat More Kale” stickers!  Montpelier artist Bo Muller-Moore hands out free, mildly subversive  “Eat More Kale” stickers.  I had stuck one on the plain black suitcase I borrowed from Bob, so this suitcase would stand out from all the others just like it on the baggage claim carousel.  It worked!  I spotted the bag right away.
  28. When Lynn picked me up, I really enjoyed looking at her simple but effective turquoise drop earrings and her matching turquoise blouse.  Very pretty.
  29. With an hour drive to her house, Lynn and I had time to reconnect in the car after four years of not seeing each other.
  30. Then when we arrived at their house, I could reconnect with Mark, the birthday boy — once also known as my college adviser.  Very special.
  31. Later, all three of us sat out on the deck drinking wine and eating crackers and cheese.  Delightful.
  32. Lynn made a simple but scrumptious stir fry dinner, with chicken, bok choy, and rice.  Perfect.
  33. The guest bed is super super comfortable!!
  34. With the windows wide open, I can hear the crickets chirping as I fall asleep.

 

All in all, a good day made so much better by focusing on the positives — so much better, in fact, that I feel like my brain has been at least a little bit re-wired.  I honestly look forward to my flight back home to see what joy it brings me.

This was such an easy exercise.  Let me know if you try it — I’d love to see your list!

 

 

 

* Of course, driving would have been a terribly selfish choice, environmentally.  I know some folks I know refuse to fly on environmental grounds, but nurturing relationships with lifelong friends seemed like a good enough reason to fly in this case.

 

Meditation Makes Me Happy — and It Can Make You Happy Too!

The sweet sound of a chime

The sweet sound of a chime

If you do a Google search, you can find a ton of solid research proving that meditating is one of the best things any of us can do for our happiness and overall health.  I’ll save you a little searching by recommending the Center for Greater Good in Berkley website, which has quite a few science-based articles on the benefits of meditation, along with a video featuring mindfulness maven Jon Kabat-Zinn.

The research persuaded me to ramp up my own practice and to begin teaching “Meditating for Happiness” classes and workshops.  I  think people sometimes put obstacles between themselves and the ability to meditate, obstacles like “I’m not Buddhist,” “my mind is too busy,” “I don’t have time,” or more generally, “meditation just isn’t for me.  I tried, and I can’t do it.”  I also firmly believe that everyone can meditate, no matter one’s religion, schedule, or past experience. I thought, if I frame this as a happiness tool, perhaps I can reach folks who otherwise walk away from meditation.   And teaching meditation, as it turns out, is a wonderful tool for making me happy, too.

That’s not the only surprising way meditation has made me happier. Here are a few others:

Tibetan Singing Bowls: Since I started teaching mediation, I’ve been experimenting with meditation options to see what I might wish to share in class.  Recently, I searched for meditation music on YouTube, and found an 11 minute video of Tibetan singing bowls.  I pressed play, wrapped myself in a shawl, and settled in.

The music was wonderful, and helped me ease into a deep meditative state.  After quite a while, though, I thought, “this seems longer than 11 minutes!”  But I let that thought go, and returned my focus to the breath.  A little bit later, I thought, “this is definitely longer than 11 minutes!”  And still I returned my focus to the breath.  Finally, I said to myself, “this is way longer than 11 minutes!”  I opened my eyes and looked at the clock: I’d been meditating for 34 minutes!  Then I looked at the video again.  It is not 11 minutes worth of Tibetan singing bowls — it is 11 hours!  This story amuses me no end, and I just love, love, love finding humor in meditation.  Who knew it could be funny?

Meditating Lakeside: A few evenings back, at the close of an especially fine spring Saturday in Vermont, I decided to meditate by the shores of the small lake across the street.  The sun was starting to set and sparkling on the waters, the peepers were peeping, and multiple and varied birds were singing.  A gentle breeze blew waves across the water and tousled my hair.  From a distance I could hear a group of neighborhood boys happily playing on their paddle boat.  It was an amazing moment in time to meditate.  I was intensely aware of  beauty and the vitality of life all around me.  I was fully present, and it was blissful.

Making Bad Days Better: I’ve had some sorrows lately, and other stressors.  That’s okay, who doesn’t?  Now, when some of the rougher moments of life hit me, I can turn to meditation as a way to calm down and get perspective.  Sitting with my breath, or doing a loving kindness metta meditation, or focusing on forgiveness — none of these solve whatever the challenge is or make hard feelings instantly dissipate.  But it helps.  It really does.

Meditating in Community: For eight years or so, my small community has kept alive a weekly meditation group.  Our group is open to anyone who wants to sit together for roughly an hour on any given Sunday evening.  We rotate houses, and whoever hosts keeps track of the time and offers up a reading.  It’s totally non-dogmatic.  The readings range from poems by Hafiz to writings by the Dalai Lama to a newspaper article — whatever the host is moved to share.  Since we spend most of the time sitting in silence, you might not think this is especially social — but it is!  Our weekly gatherings build and strengthen community relationships in a sweet, precious way.  And, I get to visit other people’s homes.  Given where I live in Vermont, some of them have outstanding views, making our time together even more delicious.

Teaching Meditation: This has turned out to be a real joy.  Honestly, when I first came up with the idea, I viewed teaching as an important tool for spreading the happiness message as well as a way for me to earn a little money.  I certainly hoped I could help others grow happier, but I totally did not expect how wonderful this enterprise would make me feel.  Yet night after night, I have left those classes on an emotional high, thinking I have the best job in the world!  It reminds me of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s poetic observation, “Happiness is a perfume you cannot pour on others without getting some on yourself.”

And then there are the children:  Even though most of you probably aren’t going to start teaching meditation classes (but yay for you if you do!!), many of you have young children in your lives.  According to Christine Carter’s book “Raising Happiness,” teaching children to meditate is one of the top 10 things you can do to help them grow into deeply happy people.  Here, too, some of the perfume may land on yourself.  I have started teaching my two-year-old granddaughter to meditate. First, I ask her if she wants to meditate.  Sometimes the answer is no.  When it’s yes, I sit her on my lap and ring the chime (pictured above).  First we say, “Happy, happy, happy.”  Next, it’s “Love, love, love” followed by “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”  By then, she’s run out of patience and just wants to ring the chime, which is fine.  One step at a time.  I can’t know where this will lead, but, oh, how lovely are those shared meditations!

I’m not sure if any of the above is included in the benefits of meditation as touted by science.  I do know they are real for me, and can be real for you as well.  I am no guru or spiritual leader, and I do not follow any particular lineage or tradition in my meditation practice.  I’m just an ordinary person who has discovered that meditation clearly makes me happier — more at peace and better able to laugh at life.   I wish the same for you!  Just watch out for those 11 hours of Tibetan bowls …

 

The Men in the Room Were Happy

My nerdy husband, happily vamping it up a few decades ago

My nerdy husband, happily vamping it up a few decades ago

Though it was a discouragingly cold early April night in Vermont, the six of us in my kitchen were warm inside and out, thanks to the wood stove, camaraderie, homemade pizza, craft beers, a scrumptious salad, and Victoria’s apple crisp.  We were full and comfortable.  Then, the three men got really happy.

Their joy began with a conversation about local contractors and home renovation projects.  Bob remembered a time he had proudly identified himself as a “trigonometrist” on a job site and proceeded to tell some fellow workers how to draw an ellipse.  “They said they were going to do it their way,” he recounted, “with wire instead of string!”

The other two men at our kitchen table laughed in great understanding.  Out came a napkin and pen, and a lively discussion about the proper way to draw an ellipse.  I thought, “A trigonometrist? Really?”  Plus, I was completely baffled about why anybody would care about using wire instead of string to draw an ellipse.   But I was loving their happiness.  All three men’s faces were totally lit up with enjoyment and engagement. They looked like little boys again.

Then I gazed at the other two women, who were both seemingly quite bored.  Since we were sitting in an alternate male-female pattern — two overlapping triangles — we were a perfectly balanced illustration of the fact that we all have different happiness boosters.  That night, the disparity fell along gender lines, but it could easily have been otherwise.  If the conversation had been birding or dogs, both of the women would have been animated while my husband and I sat silent.  Though, somehow falling along gender lines made it funnier to me.

The evening was also a fabulous illustration of what really keeps us warm during Vermont winters: community, and the criss-crossing relationships that are the foundation of a strong community.  The bonds of relationships were woven all through those two triangles.  From my point of view alone, I enjoy separate relationships with each person present that night: David and I team up on various social justice actions; Eric and I are in choir together; Victoria and I are part of the dedicated bone builders group; Judy and I share a passion for our local yoga class and meditation group.

Perhaps because Vermonters believe so strongly in community as a day-to-day guiding value, this state is one of a few “hot spots” of Gross National Happiness (GNH) activity in the country.  Burlington, Vermont was the site of the first ever GNH conference in the United States in 2010.  Now Burlington will host another conference, “Happiness and Wellbeing:  Building a National Movement,” on May 29th and 30th.  I’m pleased to say I’m part of the hard-working national core committee planning this conference.  I’m also pleased to let you know that there will be two days of trainings following the conference, including two full days of happiness skills training led by me and Barb Ryan, of “Spiraling Toward Joy” in Portland, Oregon.

In some ways, the planning committee and the conference itself remind me of the merry group having pizza and beer at my dinner table last month.  That is, what makes each of us uniquely happy is evident in the process.  I care deeply about systemic change, yes, but what really lights up my face is the opportunity to preach and teach the gospel of cultivating personal happiness skills.  So I get to focus my planning efforts on the first section of the conference, “Happiness Wellbeing: Skills and Practice.”  My colleague Tom, on the other hand, is passionate about data.  Thus, his focus has been on “Measuring Happiness and the Power of Data.”

I hasten to assure you, the planning team has not organized along gender lines!  Laura is a data maven right along with Tom, while Ken has been a key partner in planning the happiness skills segment.  Etc.  BTW, the other two segments are “Application: Policy and Community Development” and “Building the National Happiness Movement.”

So now the question is, what excites your passion?  Maybe you want to learn more about this amazing new movement.  Maybe you already have a lot of knowledge about why GNH measures matter so much to all of us, and are ready to get on the building a movement bandwagon.  Maybe you’re a data-head, maybe you’ve already applied a GNH-type paradigm to your community organization. Maybe you even know why you shouldn’t draw an ellipse with wire!

Whoever you are, if you’re still reading this blog, you are exactly the individual I am speaking to when I say, “I hope you’ll join us at the conference!”

One final enticement.  Even more than drawing ellipses and build-your-own-volcano kits, playing the ukulele makes my husband Bob very happy.  He rehearses weekly with the Montpelier Ukulele Players — a group that has a whole repertoire of happiness songs which they will be performing as part of the Thursday night reception at the conference.  Sing along with them at one end of the reception hall — or dive deep into happiness policy discussion at the other end.  We’re all different, we’re all in this together, and we all want to be happy.

 

 

 

My Happy Bedroom

Our new bedroom, ready for us to move in.

Our new bedroom, ready for us to move in.

What if all the steps we took to help heal our hurting planet and wounded society (including, often, our own financial troubles in this era of inequity) were also steps that made us happier?

Though I’m an optimist, I’m also a pragmatist — so I think it’s highly unlike that all such actions will imbue us with joy.  However, I believe that coming from a place of greater personal happiness and positivity will enable us to much more frequently find creative solutions that add to the general well being and our own sense of contentment and pleasure.   Barbara Fredrickson calls this the “broadening” principle — through increased positivity, our minds can take in the big picture and thus we can see more options.

Such is the case with our new bedroom, which is making me so happy!  It makes me happy to go to bed at night, to wake up in the morning, to put my clothes away, to sit in the easy chair and read (right now, Martin Seligman’s Flourish).

I am, of course, enjoying the hedonic hit that comes from having something new and clean and pretty and a little bit exciting.  If that’s all I felt, I wouldn’t be writing about it.  No, what really pleases me is this: my bedroom is  a manifestation of our determination to live more sustainably and responsibly — and to do so in a joyful, colorful manner.

Here’s why we have a new bedroom. Our previous bedroom was on the third floor of our house, which is a converted dairy barn.  Three large floors, with big rooms, and lots of them, translates to depressingly large heating bills.  Last year, our propane bill became a huge burden for us to pay.  It also became unconscionable to me that we used so much propane, because I believe we all must wean ourselves off fossil fuels.  My happiness in having a cozy warm bedroom on the third floor of a drafty old barn came at a cost in dollars and potential human suffering that was just too high.

But what to do?  Often, my house feels like an albatross (I no longer find the idea of living in converted barn romantic).  Selling it doesn’t seem feasible right now, and fully insulating this dinosaur would be a mammoth, expensive task.   There seemed no good options.  Yetl one day last summer, I suddenly had a brilliant, Rube Goldberg plan.  Maybe this idea came to me because I’ve been working on my positivity for so long.  In any case, I realized that  I could move my art studio to the A-frame that had served as the Happiness Paradigm store, rent an office in town and move all my office work there, and then turn the first floor room that for so many years had been both my art studio and my study into our new bedroom.  Then, we could shut off the top two floors of the house (except when company comes) AND I can use my new in-town office to build a mediation and coaching practice in a much better location than a rural A-frame.  Perfect!

Let me tell you, all that was a lot easier said than done!  Clearing out a 12 year-old art studio took a ridiculous amount of time and emotional energy.  An old utility sink had to be hauled out, a very extensively “decorated” linoleum had to be ripped up,  walls painted for the first time since we moved there, and a new closet put in.  Fortunately, my son is also a top-notch carpenter and painter, so we could keep our spending very local!  Plus, he sealed the windows so the new room leaks far less heat than it did before.  And my amazing husband re-upholstered the frayed, old quilted curtains that pre-dated our arrival — so we “upcycled” what was already there, rather than buying brand new curtains.

Here’s something else that makes me happy now: when I have to run upstairs for something, all the rooms up there are COLD!

We still have a long way to go with this house.  We are now talking about replacing one or two of the individual propane heaters with pellet wood stoves.  We will have to take money out of our retirement funds to do this, and there’s not all that much there in the first place.  But just how expensive will propane be when we’re retired?  And how can we enjoy our golden years at the cost of others’ suffering?

Which brings me to Nova Scotia researcher Catherine O’Brien, whose work on Sustainable Happiness I admire so much.  She defines sustainable happiness as “happiness that contributes to individual, community and/or global wellbeing and does not exploit other people, the environment, or future generations.”  Like O’Brien, I believe deeply that we are all interconnected, and our individual pursuits of happiness must take into consideration our effect on other humans, animals, and the planet.  Re-doing my bedroom was not just about choosing paint colors — it was about choosing sustainable happiness.

Plus, it’s so pretty!  Meaningful and pleasurable — what a sweet deal.

Falling Into Happiness

The Bone Builders of Maple Corner performing at our annual Fall Foliage variety show.  That's me in the blue shirt, partially hidden by my friend Linda.

The Bone Builders of Maple Corner performing at our annual Fall Foliage variety show. That’s me in the blue shirt, partially hidden by my friend Linda.  Photo by Erika Mitchell, the unofficial Calais photographer.

Last Friday morning, I again woke up feeling weighed down with sadness.  Though I’ve found my equilibrium after my granddaughter’s move and closing the happiness store, life is full of sorrows.  On Thursday evening, a friend and colleague had shared her cancer diagnosis.  She was in a state of shock.  It’s early, and she may be fine.  But my immediate reaction was one I’d rather not write here.

I was accepting of the sadness which seemed a highly appropriate reaction.  Yet, I knew I was moving into a day with little room for grief.  Here in Maple Corner, Friday marked the beginning of our 50th Annual Fall Foliage Festival, including the annual Variety Show (quite purposefully not called a talent show!).

That meant, I had to hurry to the community center to rehearse with my fellow Bone Builder thespians.  Bone Builders is a group open to anyone, though usually only women of “a certain age” show up.  We meet twice a week and go through the same routine with weights over and over.  And over.  And over.  Somewhere along the way, to relieve the tedium, the group started to sing while exercising.  That led to the inevitable observation, “We should perform in the Variety Show!”

Of course, we all knew all about the “Variety Show.”  It’s an annual community tradition, and we’re all about community up here.

Unlike Bone Builders, the Variety Show attracts a wide array of performers — both skilled and … uh … enthusiastic.  The youngest performer I remember was a three-year-old who sang the A-B-C song.  There have also been skits with highly-localized humor, professional musicians, and even dancing turkeys (one of the highlights of my own Variety Show career).

If you clicked on the dancing turkeys link, you’ll know there was a lot of pressure on me last Friday to shelve my sadness and get serious about the task at hand: practicing our skit, with weights, to a re-written version of “Jacob’s Ladder.”  A sample lyric: “Every round goes higher, higher.  We are starting to perspire.  We are truly feeling fire.  Women of Bone Builders.”  It was funny!  Really — especially the highly expressive acting choices some of made to illustrate perspiring …

Rehearsal made me quite happy, and it’s easy to see why.  First, there was plenty of exercise as we went through our routine repeatedly — and even more exercise when the rest of the group arrived for our standard Bone Builders’ workout.  Exercise is a sure-fire happiness booster, as is laughter, and there was plenty of that.  Plus, we were learning new lyrics, an improvement penned just the night before — learning is always good.  Then there was the singing.  I have not seen a lot of research on the link between singing and happiness, though I’m sure the research must be out there because I find singing so healing, so transformative.  Perhaps the biggest happiness boost came from being in community — first with my fellow Bone Builders, and later that evening, with the broader community.

We were a hit.  I don’t think we’re ready for Montpelier, much less Broadway, but we earned laughter and grateful applause from our neighbors.  What a high — really, an enormously fun cycle of giving and receiving between audience and performers joined together in celebration of shared community.

The Variety Show was just the start of a very full weekend, which included:

  • a “Beggar’s Breakfast” and “Beggar’s Lunch” at the community center with donated labor and food (I was a cashier, my husband baked bread);
  • a silent auction (including two of my watercolor clocks);
  • an art show featuring a local painter;
  • soccer for the younger community members;
  • an all-ages contra dance in the barn across the street;
  • Octoberfest activities at our local pub, the Whammy Bar;
  • a traditional concert in our historic Old West Church;
  • high tea at the Adamant Co-op;
  • a hike through the town’s forest; and
  • a triathalon along our dusty dirt roads — all graced by the gorgeous fall foliage, just slightly past peak.

So here’s where I’m going with all this: despite my choosing “Falling Into Happiness” as the title — an irresistible play on words — this kind of community doesn’t just happen.    Like cultivating happiness, sustaining a community takes intention and attention.  In a way, we did sort of fall into this town, after visiting a friend who lives here and deciding we wanted to be part of such a vibrant community.  But, as soon as we got here, my husband and I rolled up our sleeves and started pitching in.  I volunteered for the community center board, he taught after-school chess classes at the local elementary school.  And on and on, for both of us.

To be clear, we live in a real community — not a Disney World attraction or a Stepford Wives illusion.  There is no shortage of either challenges or sorrows.  (Plus, Black Flies, for heaven’s sake!)

I’ve often wondered how Vermont in general, and my little corner of Vermont in particular, developed and maintained such strong communities through the centuries.  My theory has to do with the harsh winters, and the inevitable help Vermonters needed to give, and receive from, their neighbors.  Maybe it also has to do with the beauty around us, and the reverence most of us feel for our natural world — perhaps that translates to enhanced respect for our neighbors.  Certainly, we tend to get outside and play or garden; we are visible to one another.

This I do know: living in a thriving community is a powerful contributor to personal well being.  I am happy do my part to keep community ties strong — especially when I get to be a dancing turkey!

The Happiest Jobs

Not so long ago, I couldn’t possibly have imagined I’d be writing a sermon.  While I may sometimes get preachy (ahem),  that doesn’t mean I ever aspired to the ministry.  Growing up, I never even went to church except on Girl Scout Sundays, when I felt very uncomfortable and out of place.

As an adult, though, I began to long for spiritual community.  When I decided to get a Masters in Mediation, I intuited that I could be more present and helpful to folks in conflict if I spent some time healing my own psyche.  This belief led me to the Unitarian Church of Montpelier, which has been my spiritual home since 2005.

When I finished my graduate degree, after devoting many months to studying the relationship between suffering and mediation, I bought a cheerier book: Dan Gilbert‘s Stumbling on Happiness.   It was a momentous purchase, as Gilbert’s book opened the gate to my happiness path.

On Sunday March 3rd 2013, the happiness path will wend its way through my spiritual home as I step into the pulpit as the guest minister at my church.  My sermon topic is, “Is Happiness Escapist, or a Valuable Spiritual Practice?”  (What do you suppose my answers will be?)

It isn’t unusual for members of the congregation to serve as guest ministers when our own minister Mara Dowdall  is away.  Nonetheless, I’m very pleased and honored to take my turn in the pulpit.

Even more exciting was receiving a second invitation to share my happiness sermon  — this time, from the Universalist Church in neighboring Barre, Vermont on Sunday April 7th.  I absolutely view pursuing happiness as a spiritual practice, so readily accepted this invitation as well.

Far left, my sister -- The Reverend Kathy Ellis, taking social justice concerns to the street

Far left, my sister — The Reverend Doctor Kathy Ellis — taking social justice concerns to the street.

But I do wonder, as I write the sermon, how the heck do my sister (Kathy Ellis, minister of the Unitarian Universalist Church of the Restoration in Philadelphia) and Mara and the other ministers I know do this week after week?  Writing a sermon is a daunting task!  And I know through my sister and through Mara that sermon writing is just the tip of the ministerial workload iceberg.

Lest you feel too sorry for them, though, I have to say the odds are good that they both love their jobs.  Indeed, in September 2012, Steve Denning wrote an article for Forbes on the “Ten Happiest Jobs.”  At the top of his list: clergy.  Denning notes, “The least worldly are reported to be happiest of all.”

Here’s the rest of his list: 2) firefighters; 3) physical therapists; 4) authors; 5) special education teachers; 6) teachers; 7) artists; 8) psychologists; 9) financial sales agents; and 10) operating engineers.

Only the last two seem at all surprising, though I think a lot of men I’ve known would love being operating engineers.  Says Denning, “Playing with giant toys like bulldozers, front-end loaders, backhoes, scrapers, motor graders, shovels, derricks, large pumps, and air compressors can be fun. ”  Yup, I can easily imagine my husband happily playing with these grown up toys …

Denning, who earlier wrote an article on the 10 most unhappy jobs, speculated that “the difference between the happiest jobs and the most hated jobs” is that “one set of jobs feels worthwhile, while in the other jobs, people can’t see the point.”  Makes total sense to me.

I also did a little bit of my own completely non-scientific research by asking my sister, Mara, and three other minister friends what about their jobs makes them happy.  Their thoughts follow.  But before you read what they say, pause for a moment to consider what the common thread or threads might be.  Some of what this group shared might surprise you.

Now, their responses:

Reverend Doctor Kathy Ellis:  “Ministry is about connecting – with people, with meaning, with the still small voice. It allows, almost requires learning and growth.  It is varied. Yesterday I even went to a movie as part of my work.”

Reverend Mara Dowdall:  “Some quick thoughts about what is ‘happy’-inducing: 1) meeting fascinating and lovely people and hearing their stories; 2) having the privilege to walk with people and be present for many holy moments; 3) reading poetry for work; 4) being challenged; and 5) variety: each day is different.”

Reverent Laelia Tawnamaia: “I agree with Kathy: love, meaning-making, justice advocating, creativity, flexibility, people, community, and soul growth.”

Reverend Susan Veronica Rak:  “I am happy in my work as a minister when all of me gets tapped into… I find all my ‘loves’ – story, art, creativity, beauty, weirdness, reverence, awe – come into play  in preaching, pastoral care, administration, etc. – and some of my greatest dreams and fears are in play, too. And that is what it is to be human.”

Reverend Janet Smith Peterman:  “It’s interesting that all of us are women and I wonder if that makes a difference. I think, too, that part of what is so satisfying is that I can use my creativity; the people connections are often at moments in their lives where something really significant is going on; we get to reflect on the larger sweeps of life and meaning; and, at least in the work I do, get to help communities find life/new life and redevelop.”

So, how did their answers fit with your expectations?  Certainly some of their responses were what I would expect (“holy moments” and “soul growth,” for example, as well as meaningful connections with others) — but what really struck me was the emphasis on creativity, variety, and continual learning.   It sounds very much as though they may frequently experience what Mihaly Csikszentmihaly describes in this TED talk as “Flow,” or “the secret of happiness.”

I also think it’s very significant that all five ministers described a variety of activities during their work days — activities that have also been proven to increase personal happiness.  Variety itself is a key to sustaining happiness, according to Sonja Lyubomirsky — mixing it up with our happiness activities keeps us interested and engaged in a way that is vital to continued higher levels of happiness.

Hmmmmm …. maybe I should pursue the ministry after all!  Just kidding.  Mostly.  Though I can definitely see the appeal in ministerial work, my calling in life is to preach happiness.  I expect to enjoy my time in the pulpit, but it’s definitely only temporary.

*****

By the way, for those of you who read my previous post on happiness for the goose and gander, I want to share my plan for “special music” on March 3rd: I’ve asked my husband Bob and his fellow ukulele players to perform “Bring Me Sunshine,” performed in this video by the Jive Aces.  This song always brings a smile to my face.  Perhaps you’ll enjoy it as well!

Gander & Goose Happiness

Right before the latest big blizzard, I read a post from a Texan who wrote that it was 60 degrees and sunny in his neck of the woods that day.  “Why would anyone ever want to live in the northeast?” he asked.

My internal response was, “Texas?  Really?  Are you kidding me?”  Large swaths of Texas have been on fire the last few years.  The state as a whole has lately suffered crushingly hot temperatures and frightening drought.  Why would anyone ever want to live in Texas?

As they say, different strokes for different folks.

When it comes to happiness, I suspect our differences emanate from a soul level.  Certainly each of us needs to chart our own distinct happiness paths.  As Sonja Lyubomirksy observes, “there is no one magic strategy that will help every person become happier.  All of us have unique needs, interests, values, resources, and inclinations that undoubtedly predispose us to put effort into and benefit from some strategies more than others” (The How of Happiness, p.69).

Or, in more folksy terms, what’s good for the goose is not necessarily good for the gander.  Or is it?

The Gander. That would be my husband, Bob.  This coming Saturday afternoon, he will undoubtedly get a huge happiness boost by once again leading his merry band of ukulele players in the Maple Corner Mardi Gras parade.  I’m guessing that getting into the flow of mastering the ukulele is partly why this experience gives him joy.  Also, I know he appreciates this opportunity to contribute to our community’s vitality.  Because performing makes his uke brothers and sisters happy too, by organizing this event, Bob further benefits by giving them this gig.

That's Bob in the Hawaiian shirt in the 2012 Maple Corner Mardis Gras

That’s Bob in the Hawaiian shirt during the 2012 Maple Corner Mardi Gras Parade

Plus, of course, it is just plain fun and not really something that needs to be analyzed.

The Goose is me.  I joined Bob in the parade last year, playing the only instruments I can even begin to handle (kazoo and tambourine); I may march again this year.  But, I’m excited about something radically different this coming Saturday morning:  a gun control rally in front of the Vermont Statehouse in nearby Montpelier.  Fun is not my strong point, alas.  I’m more in my element as a rabble rouser — or, as I might reframe it in positive psychology terms, I really like “having a purpose.”

At the Vermont statehouse for a 2011 Occupy protest.

That’s me at the Vermont statehouse for a 2011 Occupy protest.

These differences between my husband and me play out most Sunday mornings.  While I head off to sing in the church choir and get a weekly booster shot of support in leading a good life, Bob heads for his ping pong club and several hours of very vigorous exercise with his buddies.  His table tennis time is just as sacred to him as my church attendance is to me.

These musings reminded me of the following section on the Pursuit-of-Happiness website about Martin Seligman and different levels of happiness:

“Seligman’s bottom line is that happiness has three dimensions that can be cultivated:

1. ‘The pleasant life’ is realized if we learn to savor and appreciate such basic pleasures as companionship, the natural environment and our bodily needs.
2. We can remain pleasantly stuck at this stage or we can go on to experience ‘the good life,”’ which is achieved by discovering our unique virtues and strengths and employing them creatively to enhance our lives.
3. The final stage is ‘the meaningful life,’ in which we find a deep sense of fulfillment by mobilizing our unique strengths for a purpose much greater than ourselves.”

Writing this blog, and looking at my husband’s and my choice of activities through the lens of Seligman’s three levels of happiness, I now see that what’s good for the gander can indeed be good for the goose — just not in the way I’ve interpreted this cliche before.  I always thought it meant the goose and the gander should be doing and liking the same things.  Now, I see that by doing and liking different things, the goose and the gander can help each other expand and enrich their levels of happiness.

Nearly everything I’ve read about what makes people happy stresses the importance of relationships, and good connections with others.  Perhaps one reason this is so is because other people inevitably provide us with more varied happiness opportunities.   We help each other cultivate different dimensions of happiness.

I definitely need to nurture “the pleasant life”  more.  Bob helps me be more playful, and that is definitely a good thing.  So … hand me a kazoo.  And see you at the rally.