High on Happiness

Posts Tagged ‘happiness practice’

Except, perhaps, for getting in touch with your feelings of genuine gratitude, nothing opens your heart to happiness like acts of kindness—both given and received.

There’s a magic to kindness, to selflessly reaching out to another living being with a spirit of helpfulness.  It creates warmth and expansiveness within us; it uplifts us and inspires.

It’s as if time stops for one lovely moment of connection.  “Here,” kindness says, “let me ease the way.”

Kindness acknowledges our essential relatedness.  It lets us remember, however briefly, that we are not alone, that our journey here is a shared one.

Touch someone with kindness and both you and she feel its gentle gift.  Give it away and it feels so good you want to give more.  Receive it and you want to pass it on.  And more than that, just seeing it in action is enough to move a passerby to be more kind himself.

Kindness brightens and comforts, and lightens and lifts.  It makes us feel bigger and more real.  It’s born of happiness and shares its contagion.  And every act of kindness, large or small, makes the world a more beautiful place.

That’s power.  Connect with it.  Pass it around.  Go ahead: make somebody’s day.

Somebody told me about a happiness-generating game where you pick a “best of” category each morning and then keep your eye out throughout the day for a winner -   “Most Beautiful,” “Kindest,” “Funniest,” “Most Interesting Fact,” “Best News” – and I decided to play.

Forsythia against a deep blue sky won my “Most Joyful Sight” contest today, hands down.  The sheer brightness of it sent my spirit soaring.

But here’s the really interesting thing. Although I was on the lookout for joy, I found myself noticing contenders for other “best of” categories as well.

A story my co-worker told me about a happy ending to a situation at home qualified as “Best News.”  The “Kindest Act” happened when I spotted a nurse tenderly wiping a tear from the face of an elderly woman in the lobby of our clinic.  “Funniest” was the sight of a huge, happy dog running down the street pulling his little boy, who struggled mightily to keep up at the end of the leash.

And so it went.  The game kept me so alert for goodness that my entire day turned into a celebration of its superb little moments.  I came home with a whole heap of them to enjoy when I reviewed my day.

Play along!  Pick a “best of” category yourself every day for a few days.  See what happens.  And if you’re of a mind, pop in and share what turned up for you.

“Everyone must have felt that a cheerful friend is like a sunny day, which sheds its brightness on all around; and most of us can, as we choose, make of this world either a palace or a prison.” ~John Lubbock

As I walked out my door on my way to work this morning, the patch of miniature crocuses beamed in the morning sun like so many smiles from the earth.  Just the sight of their simple, cheery light sent a ripple of happiness through me and I decided right then and there that I was going to beam smiles today, too.  I laughed, realizing I had chosen to wear yellow.  I would be a little crocus.

I work in a busy mental health clinic, and our waiting rooms are often filled with people locked in prisons of depression.  They sit, slumped and expressionless, looking as if a great weight presses down on them.

Each time my work took me though the waiting areas today, I made a point of catching the eyes of people and smiling at them as if they, personally, were the source of my happiness.  Some looked surprised.  Some looked puzzled, as if they were trying to figure out how they knew me.  And every one of them involuntarily smiled back, if only for the briefest second.

In the afternoon I got into the elevator with two clients from our day hospital.  The woman immediately returned my smile and hello.  Then I turned my gaze to the tall, morose looking man and sent him a little wave of acceptance and compassion on a quiet, gentle smile.  Ever so slightly the corners of his mouth rose.  The woman laughed and said to him, “What are you smiling about!”

He immediately seemed uncomfortable about that, and I said to her, “Oh, it’s my fault.  See?  My smile is contagious.  He couldn’t help it.”  She grinned.  “And so is yours, I see!”  I told her.  The doors opened and we got out, with me wishing them both a fine afternoon.

I remembered a story I heard once about a man who was on his way to throw himself off a bridge to end his life.  But then someone looked him in the eye, smiled, and said “Hello.”  That brief encounter with a friendly stranger made him realize he was real, his life was real, that he didn’t really want to throw it away.

I made up an acronym for “smile” once:  “Sharing Magnificently In Light Eternal.”  I hadn’t thought about that for a long time.  But empowered by the little yellow crocuses, I got to live the truth of it again today.

“Let your intentions be good,” wrote author Grenville Kleiser, “embodied in good thoughts, cheerful words, and unselfish deeds – and the world will be to you a bright and happy place in which to work and play and serve.”

Go lightly in the world.  Spread joy.  Be a shaft of sunlight.  Be a crocus.

In psychology it’s called “successive approximation” or “shaping.”   In business seminars across the world, it’s the popular Japanese technique of continuous improvement known as “kaizen.”   Except for the universe itself, which seems to have boomed into existence with one big bang, it’s the way most things grow.  Personally, I like to call the process “taking baby steps.”

I like “baby steps” for two reasons.  Well, okay, three.  First, it reminds me of playing the game “Mother May I?” when I was a kid.  Players had to ask the leader if they could take a ten baby steps toward the finish line.  If we remembered to use the phrase “Mother May I?” our request was granted.  If we took the steps without asking, we had to start over again.  Baby steps were carefully taken, little tiny steps, where one foot barely moved past the other.  Otherwise, you were cheating.  It was a fun game, and I associate the fun of it with taking really small steps.

Secondly, “baby steps” reminds me of the way real babies learn to walk.  Man!  Are they determined little critters!  Nothing discourages them.  One little bit at a time, they practice standing, balancing, moving one foot, getting up from the floor, balancing again, moving one foot, holding on, moving the other foot, letting go.  They just keep practicing and practicing and practicing until the whole complex process comes together and they’re out in the yard chasing the dog across the grass.

(And three, I like it just because babies are so doggone adorable that the mere mention of the word ‘baby’ makes me smile inside.)

“Inch by inch,” said Dr. Robert Schuller, “anything’s a cinch.”  “The journey of a thousand miles,” said Buddha “begins with a single step.”

I have a friend who has a list of a couple dozen things she wants to accomplish or master and every day she makes a check mark by the ones where she has made even the slightest move forward.  She calls it her kaizen list.  And over time, she accomplishes more than anyone I know.

Want to clean your bedroom?  Pick up a sock.  Want to demolish that heap of papers on your desk?  File one piece, or three, or throw one or two away.  Want to create an exercise routine?  Practice moving some part of you for two extra minutes every day.  Want to read more books?  Get one out and read a paragraph or page a day or during each TV commercial.

Nature paints whole landscapes by opening its buds one tiny millimeter at a time.  One straw at a time, a bird builds a nest.  One brick at a time, a man builds a cathedral.  One more smile each day, one more act of kindness, one more whisper of gratitude, and pretty soon, your positivity ratio has permanently tipped to the plus side.

It’s a great way to build your happiness practices.  Give it a try.

The left side of my brain says that the tree leans over the creek the way it does due to such things as the direction of light and prevailing winds, the flow of the water, erosion and such.  But the right side imagines that it’s leaning that way to see what delights are flowing downstream and to better hear the creek’s singing.

It does look like a happy tree, after all, raising its strong limbs like that, as if I caught it in a dance.

If you began every day leaning into joy, watching to see what good things were rolling toward you down the time stream, you would be likely to dance, too.  If you set your mind to notice the pleasures and delights as they flow past—the moments of laughter and satisfaction, the chances you grabbed to exercise your best strengths, talents, and skills, the things that tickled your senses—your day would bubble with instants of happiness.

Lean into joy.  It’s a great happiness practice.  Just set your mind in the morning to watch for the good things and then let them roll.

“You can become blind by seeing each day as a similar one.  Each day is a different one, each day brings a miracle of its own.  It’s just a matter of paying attention to this miracle.” ~Paulo Coelho

I visited the lake again today.  All of a sudden the ice is gone, and the geese who were clowning on its hard surface just days ago are swimming as regally as swans through its emerald waters.  To me, it seemed a miraculous transition, so swift, so thorough.  It was as if some cosmic stagehands had built a brand new set for the next act of the grand play unfolding before me.

Miracles.  They’re more plentiful than dewdrops on the morning grass, than sparkles on the surface of a lake.  And the beautiful thing about being rooted in deep and genuine happiness is that you actually see them, and they sweep through your heart on wings of delight and awe.

You see them because when you’re anchored happiness, you see through the veil of stories that run so unceasingly through your mind.  When you’re not hypnotized by grocery lists and make-believe conversations, by agendas and reruns and plans, your mind is free to experience the ordinary miracles playing out all around you–every day.  You open to the flow of them as they pour through your senses and splash across the screen of your mind.

Nobody stays in the miracle state.  It, too, passes.  The mind mesmerizes us again, pulling us back into our dreams.  Maybe reality is too stunning to bear except in wafer-thin slices; I don’t know.  But oh!  When those glimpses come, how wondrous they are!

“Every now and then,” I tell my friends, “a moment comes along that makes all the rest of them worth it.”  And I can tell you this: the more I practice happiness, the more I learn how to let it flow, the more often those moments come, and the longer they stay.  And then happiness itself seems the miracle.

“O clap your hands, all ye nations; shout unto God with the voice of Joy.” ~Psalm 47:1

Applause!  How we love it!  A pat on the back, a word of praise, a standing ovation for a job well done stops us right in our tracks and plugs us in.

Applause is the eruption of gratitude and appreciation.  It says, “I’m delighted!  I’m jubilant!  You fill me with joy.”  It happens when our gladness flows right down to our fingertips, setting them flying in acclaim.

It bursts spontaneously from children and the old, from women and men of all cultures and climes.  Applause says, “Congratulations!” It pays tribute; it honors; it commends.

It’s as joyful to give as to receive it.  Applaud your partner five times more than you criticize and watch your relationship thrive.  Applaud your child (and the child within you) for tasks attempted or mastered and watch her beam and strive.  Applaud the day when you wake up in the morning and see how wonderfully it unfolds.  Applaud Spirit at its end, and see how peacefully you sleep.

It’s a happiness practice par excellence.  Make it a part of your day.

Last July, on a whim, I set a goal to take a nature photo every day for a year and post it on the Net.  It was scary.  I didn’t know if I could do it.  A year is a long time.

Some days, I knew, would be dreary, and some would be brutally cold, and on some I just plain wouldn’t feel at all inspired to go in search of a photo after working all day at my regular job.  But the challenge of it excited me and so I plunged in.

Not long afterwards, I began writing this blog you’re reading right now, another daily venture.  And now, over 200 days in, the two projects have blended together in my experience, feeding each other, becoming important parts of my life.  The practice of producing them has enriched me in more ways than I can count.

Practices are like that.  They more than repay you for the energy you invest in them.  They take you to extraordinary places; they lead you to discoveries you couldn’t have made any other way.  They unfold beautiful lessons and precious insights.  They stretch you and grow you and bring you satisfaction and joy.

Late this afternoon, for instance, I found myself wading through heaps of snow deeper than my boots and crawling under a fallen tree to reach the edge of the creek.  I felt completely exhilarated and alive, the weariness of work left far behind me.  The creek sang with the music of rushing waters, and danced with scarves of color captured from the glowing distant hills and azure sky.  Everywhere I looked beauty met my eye and a symphony of gladness sang through my soul, filling my whole being with the music of happiness.

Somewhere I read that happy people tend to be involved in projects.  They incorporate rituals in their daily lives that allow them to stretch themselves toward greater joy.  I can see why now.  And I wholeheartedly encourage you to create space in your own day to practice something you love.  Anything.  Daily.   Watch it take on its own rhythm and begin to sing its song to you, infusing the music of happiness into your life with ever-deepening harmony and life-enhancing meaning, satisfaction and joy.

Ever so softly the snow fell, its countless glistening crystals smoothing the landscape with great, clean curves.  And even though we have had more than our share of it since the month began, its beauty is undeniable.

It erases the sharp edges of things and brings a quiet to the world that evokes a kind of reverence and subtle joy.

Looking out at the newly brushed landscape, I couldn’t help but feel a deep calm and a sense of awe at the sheer majesty of the scene outside my window.

It put me in touch with the serene side of happiness, the sense that we live at the command of a vast beneficence.  It’s the kind of happiness that wears the sparkle of tranquility and that rises from a calm and quiet heart.

The serenity of happiness is a gift that soothes and smoothes the jangled thoughts of our all too busy minds.  It has a transcendent beauty about it that lets you hear the angels sing.  It falls softly with a gentle grace and lets you taste the sweetness of true inner peace.  It’s a whispering of the great yes, a surrender to trusting that all is well, despite the evidence of our limited perceptions.

It comes to you when you practice stilling yourself, when you allow yourself to set your cares and anxieties aside.  It begins with simply breathing, with practicing mindfulness and presence.  The more you allow yourself to soften into relaxation, the wider you open the channels through which happiness flows.  And the more that you open them, the greater your sense of inner peace and joy.

As time accelerates toward year’s end and the approaching holidays sweep us up with their bustle and rush, take a moment now and then to appreciate the ordinary.

The familiar people, the daily routines, the myriad possessions that we take for granted are, after all, the things that add a sense of constancy to our lives.  They give us comfort; they define us; they contribute their textures to our lives.

Because they fill our worlds routinely, day in and day out, we tend to overlook the little miracles that surround us:  The sound of Jen’s voice, the way Matthew smiles, the hum of the refrigerator, the plumpness of a pillow, the warmth of our beds.  Electricity, hot water, indoor plumbing, the fact that the bus unfailingly comes around 7.  The tree outside the door, the cat’s meow, knowing where we keep the spoons.

Appreciating the ordinary removes it from the dusty shelf of disregard and shines it up again.  It lets us see how much we have, and to remember how we value it, how we depend on its presence.  In a world where change is swift and unrelenting, the ordinary parts of our lives offer us a refuge; they deserve our positive regard. And we deserve the quiet joy that comes from offering it.