High on Happiness

Archive for November, 2009

Way, way back, before time began, God put on his artist hat and painted the creation.  He used every color on his infinite palette and every inch of space.

He had just finished the last stroke and was stepping back to look at it, grinning, when Mrs. God came in with a plate of sandwiches for their lunch.

When she saw what he had done, she stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth open in astonishment.

“Like it?” God asked.

“Ooooooo!” she gasped, catching her breath again, “It’s glorious!”

“Yes, I thought it was pretty good myself,” God said, picking up one of the sandwiches.  “It just needs one more thing.”

“What’s that?” Mrs. God asked.

“Just a little touch to capture the feeling I get inside whenever I see you,” God said, with a twinkle in his eye.  Then turning toward the creation, and drawing a powerful breath that came all the way from his toes, he pointed his index finger at it and with a voice that is still echoing to this day, he uttered his command:  “Dance!”

And so it did, and does, and so do we.  Even when we don’t know it.

Learning to raise your happiness thermostat is like learning to do anything else.  First, you have to entertain the notion that maybe you really could be happier, that maybe it’s true that there are things you can do to feel happier more often, more deeply, in your life.

Let’s start there.  Is happiness really something we can learn?  Or is it a matter of luck, or chance, or genetics?

Here’s the answer:  Yes.  Yes, the general cheeriness of your disposition is programmed into your genes.  Some of us are just born happier than others.  And yes, all of us can learn to live at the high end of our personal happiness range.  That’s what science says, so far.   (Some scientists, working at the outer edges of knowledge, say we may even be able to teach our genes to turn happy.  But we’ll stick with the more proven, generally accepted kind of science right now.)

So let’s say you buy the idea that you could learn to be happier.  Would you want to?  What if it’s work to get there?  Is the payoff going to be worth the effort?  You’ll have to change things, you know. You’ll have to put some time into it, give up some habits, practice some exercises.

One way to decide is to think back to a time when you felt really, really good.  Go ahead, remember a genuinely happy experience in your life.  Remember how free you felt, how at ease.  What was your energy level like?  How did you feel about other people?  Was it fun?  Satisfying?  Are you smiling, just remembering it?

Now, what if you could feel that way more often than not?  And what if even the effort that you had to put into creating that experience felt like fun?  What if the exercises you had to practice turned out to be easy—and pleasurable?  Would you be willing to invest a little effort?  A little time?

If you answered “yes,” or even if you felt yourself leaning in that direction, keep reading this blog.  It has lots of hints about things you can do and viewpoints you can adopt, that will let you start feeling happier.  It will give you glimpses into the textures of happiness, reminding you how good it feels.  And in a few weeks, I’ll be revealing a whole new website filled with resources you can use to turn up the happiness in your life.  For now, just think about it.  Ask yourself how you would like it if happiness was your normal state of being and start thinking about whether you would like to invest some time into inviting more of it into your life.

Wanting nothing, with no particular place to go, she relaxed into the moment.  And no sooner had she opened her mind to it, allowing it to sing whatever song it would sing, than it swept her away with its beauty.

What could have seemed so ordinary and been so easily overlooked appeared now as if it were a magnificent work of art.  Every shape, every shade, the juxtaposition of forms and textures, light and shadow, motion and stillness detailed its perfection.

She was so transfixed by it that, for several moments, she was unable to move.  Nor did she want to.  If she dared take a step, perhaps it would disappear.  Perhaps the veil that had kept her from seeing it would fall again, casting her back into the mundane awareness from which she had so miraculously awakened.

And as she stood there, spellbound, allowing the majesty of it to pour into her mind, its perfection took on even greater depth.  A wondrous soundtrack began to play—the rustling of the brittle leaves, the calls of birds, the hum of a passing car, the distant sheiks of children at play.  She felt the warmth of the morning’s bright sun on her cheek, the caress of the soft air that carried the scents of autumn.

She breathed it in deeply, and felt the flow of the air inside her body, carrying with it the sunlight and the birdsong and the fragrance of the leaves.  And as she exhaled, molecules that had been inside her, a part of her very being, carried something of her to the trees and the birds and the sky.  And, seeing at once how she was a part of the perfection, she laughed in sheer joy.

My friend Charles Burke over at Bullseye-Living.com opened a door for me tonight with a very thought-provoking article he wrote called “Feeding Pigeons in the Park.” He was talking about the way most of us tend to read a piece on a blog and then surf away to read the next article, the next blog, without ever leaving a comment.

His article (which I highly recommend, by the way) made me think about how we miss so many opportunities in life to connect with other people.  Just as we read a blog entry without consciously thinking that a real person took the time to write and post it for us, we breeze past people in our everyday world without thinking to acknowledge their reality.  We’re rude to telemarketers; we often treat cashiers and clerks, food-servers and secretaries, cabbies and bus drivers as if they were mannequins.  And all the while we complain about how isolated and lonely we feel in the world today.

A favorite wisdom-saying of mine is “Be the change you want to see in the world.”  If we want a world of greater connection, we need to reach out and connect.  If we want to be acknowledged for our contributions, we need to acknowledge the contributions of others.  If we want to be seen and treated with kindness, we need to recognize the humanity of the people who cross our paths each day, to offer them the kindness of a word of greeting or appreciation, spoken with sincerity.

When we reach out to others, when we extend ourselves with a helping hand, a listening ear, a genuine smile, we’re making the world a richer, more human place.  And our little acts of kindness not only open the hearts of others, they lift us up as well.  When we’re generous of spirit, we’re repaid immediately with a physiological burst of gladness and a lingering sense of calm.  We’re built, it turns out, to love.

Go read Charles’ article and join the crew that’s deciding they no longer want to be pigeons.  It will put a little love in your heart.

This past summer, I was following a discussion among a group of graduates in positive psychology about personality strengths.  So far, 24 strengths have been identified using a fixed set of criteria, and this group was brainstorming about strengths that might qualify to become number 25.

It was a beautiful, hearty discussion, and I loved the proposals and arguments the group contributed.  But one struck me especially—and not only because its name amused me, but because I saw it as a really important character strength.  Executive coach Margaret Greenberg proposed it to the group, and named it the ability to “Get-It-Out-the-Door.”

The person who possesses this particular strength, Margaret said, has learned how to overcome the tension between finishing something and keeping at it to make it better.  They know when things are “good enough” to send out into the world—even if they want to keep working on them for “another five hours (or years).”

People with this strength know how to take an idea and translate it into something tangible without taking a lifetime to do it.  They’re productive, prolific even.  They make the leap of faith that’s involved in getting started; they create their book, or business, or art work or product as best they can and they get it out the door.

They move on their ideas.  They focus and create and produce and then let the finished product go—regardless of the imperfections they may see in it.  They’re confident enough to say, “It’s not perfect, but it’s pretty doggone good,” and to send it out into the world to flop or fly as it will.  They don’t get bogged down in over-analysis, or in fearful obsession about every last detail being as perfect as possible.  Instead, they relish the act of production itself and revel in having a finished work to offer the world.

If getting it out the door is one of your strengths, congratulations!  Pat yourself on the back for it—and then get back to work!  If it’s not your strong point, polish up the strengths you do have.  And maybe, just maybe, think about borrowing a little energy from this one the next time you set out to tweak the quality of your life.  It’s a satisfaction-producer, for sure.

November is spreading itself across the region in shades of beige and gray, a portent of the coming winter.

Despite the holidays that sparkle its coming, those of us who have spent some years of our lives in northern climes are not fooled.  We know what the season holds.

And although we may shudder and grumble and complain, secretly we love the way the season tests us to see what we’re really made of.

Adversity, after all, gives us a chance to dig out our determination and courage.  And winter brings plenty of trials.  Its cold and seemingly endless months of darkness test our patience, our resolution, our willingness to endure.

And there’s a joy in that—in finding the grit and spirit to rise above the season’s challenges.  We kick up our senses of camaraderie a notch.  We pull on our boots and woolies and defy the cold by tossing our winter sports and games in its face.  We cuddle more, and enjoy the heartiness of winter foods.

It’s not an easy season.  But like all of life, it has its blessings—not the least of which is the chance it gives us to exercise our fortitude.  And there’s something glorious in that.

“It is what it is,” he said.  The phrase seems to be one of those that’s slipping into our national vocabulary.  It was the third time I’d heard someone say it today.

To the extent that it signals an acceptance of a current set of circumstances, it’s a positive way to look at things.  But I have a hunch, from the ways I heard it said today, that what could be words of wisdom are, instead, signaling a negative resignation.

Here’s the difference:  To accept things as they seem to be means you are making an honest assessment.  You’re allowing yourself to take in a situation and size it up so that you can respond to it in the most effective and creative way possible.  You see yourself as a self-directed actor, capable of choosing the best way to meet the conditions the moment presents.  You’re keeping your mind open and looking for options.

To be resigned, on the other hand, means you have concluded that the circumstances are bigger than you.  It means you have decided that nothing can be done, that you’re at the end of your road, and the best you can do is not to fight it.  Resignation means you quit.  You step out of the picture, deciding that there’s nothing you can do to make things any better.

Both positions involve releasing the desire for things to be other than they are.  Both require the choice of a new orientation to the way events have unfolded.  And it’s that moment of choice that tells the tale.

Acceptance is a self-empowering willingness to respond to circumstances that seem less than optimal with grace and openness.  It chooses to look for new paths, for open doors.  It’s the choice of resilience, of optimism and hope.

Resignation is a self-defeating willingness to take on the role of victim.  It’s the choice of defeat and helplessness.

If you find yourself saying, “It is what it is,” ask yourself how you want to respond to this signal that events are requiring a choice from you.  Will you shrink into victimhood?  Or will you look for new opportunities?

“Happiness,” says children’s author E. L. Konigburg, “is excitement that has found a settling down place.  But there is always a little corner that keeps flapping.”

How I love that image – “a little corner that keeps flapping.”  Pull that corner up, and there’s excitement all over again, just waiting to bubble up and fill you with enthusiasm.

Happiness, after all, is the juice of life.  And while it does have to settle somewhat just so we can get on with things, you can’t hold it in forever.  It’s enthusiastic by nature.  It’s filled with spirit and zest.

Even when it smoothes itself into its mellower forms—satisfaction, savoring, awe—it has a passion and dynamism about it.  It can purr and it can hum.  But let it loose in its purest form and it’s trumpets and tympanis and thousand-voiced choirs singing from the heart of every nook and cranny of being.

At its core, it’s a kick-your-heels kind of energy.  It’s hearty and rich, keen and intent.  It’s full of fun and fascination.  It makes you want to move, to dance, to laugh, to sing, to embrace, to holler a Yes so big it will echo back from all creation.  It comes on you like an exuberant sunrise, spilling every hue of the rainbow all over your mind’s sky and sparkling it with stars to boot.

Okay.  We don’t get it full force very often.  How would we stand it!  But if you listen very closely, you can always hear it bubbling away.  It’s underneath everything.  Lift up a corner and see.

Since the evening found me with such a deep sense of joy running through my veins, I pulled out my happiness question and asked myself “Why am I so happy now?”   And one of the answers that drifted into my mind was the realization that I had encountered so many genuinely competent people today.

What a joy it is to deal with people who are skilled at their work, who do what they do with ease and expertise!  Instantly you relax and wrap them with your trust; you can see at once that you are in capable hands.

They’re interesting, people who do things well.  They’re like artists, applying to their work a special touch of individuality, imbuing it with a bit of themselves that makes you feel special just for receiving what they have to give.

It doesn’t matter what the work is.  I was as impressed by the proficiency of the bag boy at the grocery store as I was by the hygienist who cleaned my teeth.  I enjoyed the expertise a sculptor friend displayed as she described the kinds of website designs that best showcase art work.  I admired the pleasant efficiency of a bank teller solving the problem of the guy ahead of me in line.

I know that I feel good when I do a job well, that I come away from it with a sense of satisfaction.  Doing well at a task gives you a sense of pride; it reinforces your self-esteem.  But I don’t think I ever consciously noticed before how much happiness another person’s competency releases in me.

I’m glad that I discovered that.  I’ll notice it more now.  And I’ll make a more conscious effort to do what I do well, too.  What a win-win way to make the world a happier place!

As I turned the clocks back and the calendars’ pages forward to November, the year’s end felt, suddenly, so near.

It seems that only yesterday I was walking in an ocean of color, and now as I peer out my window, the tree limbs are bare against the sky, their leaves heaped in brown blankets on the ground.  November came so quickly that it was almost a surprise.

Yet here it is, urging us all to hurry with our last minutes preparations as the days descend into darkness and the thermometers tumble toward their lows.

It’s funny how life’s seasons are like that—how they seem so long when you’re in the midst of them, and yet so brief once they have passed.

The hours of springtime and childhood feel so full and deliciously long.  And then it is summer, and then you are grown, and you marvel at how quickly the year’s first season, and your own, flew by.   Adolescence takes us by surprise, and adulthood, and before you know what happened, you have adolescents of your own.  And the turnings of the seasons keep rolling by in one flowing circular spiral, each season holding the promises of the next, each one more precious than the last because of all the last one held.

So here come the nutmeg days of November, reeking of autumnal spice. Savor their taste on your tongue as you devour them.  Because when you blink they will be forever gone.