High on Happiness

Posts Tagged ‘Savoring’

The mated geese swam slowly across the green, smooth lake chatting leisurely in their mind-meld kind of way.

Breakfast treats had been plentiful, and although the morning was warming, the water was still cool and felt like liquid satin as it washed against their webbed feet.

They could hear their offspring, down at the northern end of the lake, honking boisterously as they played their games with the other young geese.

They had, the pair agreed, grown into magnificent creatures over the course of the summer, so  powerful and strong.   They chuckled together as they remembered what fuzzy, funny goslings they had been at first, and how gangly their legs seemed as they went through that awkward stage between babyhood and youth.

“Remember teaching them to fly?” the gander asked his mate.  “I thought Bruce would never get it!” The two of them laughed as they pictured the young goose belly flopping into the lake.

They swam quietly then through the citron and emerald water, savoring the warmth of pride that parents feel as they watch their children grow.

“Lovely morning, isn’t it?” the mother goosed said.

“Yes, it is,” replied the gander.  “Yes, it is, indeed.”

Late on Christmas Day, an old friend stopped by.  The other guests had gone; the house was quiet, the fire glowing beautifully in the fireplace.

As we sat sipping coffee together in its warmth, he reminisced about Christmases gone by—those from his childhood, 70 years ago, the ones when his own children were young, the ones when the grandkids were bright-eyed toddlers.

Maybe it was the firelight, but it seemed to me that his leathered face softened and took on a warm glow as he told his stories.

As he talked, I found my thoughts drifting back through memories of my own, and felt my heart warm with the richness of them.

As the holidays come to an end, as the year’s final days pass by, savor them and wrap the hours in tenderness.  Ease them deeply into memory’s store like precious cargo, treasured gems.

Some quiet night, farther down the road, they’ll drift again into your awareness, releasing their sparkle and glow to bless you with joy made more golden by the patina of time.  And your heart will smile, and remind you again that life is beautiful and good.

Autumn’s official start may still be over two weeks away, but for those of us here in the States, this long holiday weekend marks the close of summer.

I spent an hour driving the back roads today, taking in the sights and saying goodbye to summer, and my heart filled with a sweet nostalgia for its long green days.  I wanted to live them over again, every one of them.

As I looked out over the tall rows of corn, nearly ready now for harvest, I remembered the excitement of seeing the first green shoots poking up through the soil.  The goldenrod edging the roadside reminded me of spring’s dandelions and daffodils, and I savored the memory of all the colorful flowers the passing season had placed before my eyes.

I thought about the smell of freshly mown lawns, and about the way the songbirds filled the air with their choruses at dawn and at sunset, and how dew shimmered in the grass in the morning.  The sound of the crickets singing in the fields reminded me of the thrill of hearing the peepers in the creek for the first time, and I thought about fireflies sparkling in July’s nighttime sky.

Now it’s time to tuck it all away in memory’s store.  Some winter night I’ll pull the memories out again and bask in them as I sit before a blazing fire.  But for now, I bid summer’s days a fond farewell and give thanks for having lived them.

The beautiful thing about joy is that is comes in so many colors.  Sometimes it’s quiet and deep, sometimes it sings in leaping flames, sometimes it dips itself in the sunrise and paints its whole spectrum across the length of your day.

Entire days of joy are as rare as rainbows, I admit.  But almost always you can find a patch or two of joy somewhere:  A smile here, a laugh there, a moment of connection with someone you love, a song that moves you, a surprise unfurled.

The trick is to pick them up when you find them; stick them in your happiness pouch.  At the end of the day, string them all together in a little feast of savoring and delight.

The more you do that, the more joy-moments you’ll find.  And one day, when you sit down to look back through the hours and see what your happiness bag holds, a whole rainbow of joy will pour out on your floor.  And your eyes will mist over a bit at the sight of it as you realize how beautifully you’ve been blessed.

They’re making us a sunshine sandwich this weekend: one slice of radiant sun, piled high with fresh greens and whipped clouds, between two freshly baked days of rain.

It’s a yummy treat, common in this part of the country as spring comes to a close.

We’re especially fond of the filling.  It tastes like summer, warm and spicy on our tongues.  And we’re careful not to let a morsel of it go to waste.  We inhale the bright fragrance of it.  We let its flavor roll around in our mouths for awhile.  We savor it long after the last bit of it is gone.

It’s kind of like the way you meet a slice of happiness, tucked between slabs of ordinary days and made all the brighter by its contrast with them.  You just surrender to it and let the taste of it flow through your whole being, filling you with its gladness and joy.  And when the last bit of it fades into ordinary again, you carry the feeling of it with you and it satisfies your mind and nourishes your soul.

As I swept my large front porch today, I suddenly remembered the rockers stored in my fruit cellar.  They’re fine old pieces, these two, sturdy and well built, and hauling them out has become for me a ritual that ushers in summer.

They were gifts from a friend who had inherited them from his grandparents.  He had no room for them in his apartment and wanted them to be somewhere that they would feel at home.

I think they like my porch, with its view of the meadow and wooded rolling hills.  I sit in the grandmother’s chair at sunset, and sometimes the old man who owns the field behind mine comes to sit in the other one and sip a glass of iced tea.

I watch the little chimney swifts dart above the pines at sunset, their silvery chirps so bright that I’ve come to call them “the sparkle birds.”    Their song is the descant to the other songbirds’ evening chorus.

Sometimes, when the night is very still, I sit in Grandma Mitchell’s rocker and watch the stars.  I imagine that I hear her and Grandma Mitchell talking about the how the crops are doing and about the weather in the quiet way long-married people talk at the close of the day.

I breathe in the sweetness of the grass and listen to the crickets who continue the evensong after the birds have tucked themselves in for the night.  It’s my hour for savoring, for drinking in the serenity of the night and letting my mind drift through time and out to the starry skies.

It’s a time of peace and beauty.  And often I wish we would all make more time just to sit on a porch, or a roof, or a stoop, just watchin’ the world go by.

Our brains are wired, science shows, to pay more attention to the bad than to the good, even though our good times far outweigh the lesser ones.  Take a sheet of white paper, place a dot on it, and it’s the dot that you see and remember.  “We’re like Teflon for the good experiences,” one researcher put it, “and Velcro for the bad.”

You can easily see that in your own life.  Looking back over the day, you can name the things that went wrong much more readily than the things that went right—even when your feelings tell you that, overall, you had a pleasant day.

One way to build your happiness quotient is by taking time to anchor the positive moments in your mind.  When a phone call brings good news, take a few seconds to think about why it made you feel happy.  When you read something that inspires or excites you, note the feeling and what was good about it.

Positive feelings last longer when you don’t over-analyze them, though.  So a quick nod of your attention in their direction is all you need.  A simple label will do:  “That was really thoughtful.  I’m touched,” or “How exciting, or beautiful, or encouraging.”

When you consciously recognize the gifts of the day, they become more memorable.  They transform into little jewels of light that you can savor at day’s end, or fodder for pleasant stories to share over dinner.  Noticing the good dots your day with highlights and keeps it from becoming merely a mildly pleasant blur.

Think of it as collecting sparkles.  Give it a try.

After her wild riot of color, autumn settled down for a breather.  She toned her golds down to ochre, her crimsons to rust, and she began to turn her thoughts inward, stilling herself for the final leg of her performance.

Beneath the deep blue of a clear October sky, she stretched herself out across the landscape and let herself savor the satisfaction of all she had accomplished over the past few weeks.

She loved the cycle of the seasons and the part in them that she got to play, pushing her strengths and talents to their limits, taking them to new levels, just for the sheer joy of it.

It was no easy task, turning summer into winter.  She took pride in the skill she brought to it, in the way she orchestrated it all with such finesse.   What an honor it was, after all, to be called on for this assignment.

She still had the final act to perform, stilling the world as the nights grew to full length, ushering in the frost and snow, making sure all the seeds and creatures were properly sheltered and that the festival spirits were prepared for their turn on the stage.

But today, she could enjoy an intermission of rest, an interlude of stillness, where she could reflect on the richness of it all.  It’s good to do that now and then when you’re performing the great part that life has assigned you, the one that you alone were born to play.  Grab a few late October moments to follow autumn’s lead.  Take stock of all you have accomplished, and rest in the happiness of it for awhile.

I woke this morning to sunshine, birdsong and the first, faint scents of autumn wafting through my bedroom window.  Before I even moved, I felt the warm surge of happiness rising within me, and I lay for several long moments savoring its glow.

No two moments of happiness are alike.  It comes in as many forms as there are breaths in the day, beats of the heart.  It sounds like music: the splash of water in a sink, the whoosh of passing cars, the soft whisper of air through my nostril as I breathe.  It comes in colors and textures and fragrances and tastes, in movement and in stillness.  It’s such a sensual thing.

But these are only its wrappings, floating and dancing on its surface like colorful scarves. Beneath them, happiness stretches in silent wonder and flows without name.  It’s the breeze that buoys the bright moments, that fills the sensations with beauty and delight.  Happiness is the depth beneath the pleasures, infusing them with their power to sing to our emotions, to touch our souls and inspire our minds.

As I lay in bed, enjoying the morning, all I wanted was to gently hold the awareness that the joy I feel comes not from the sensual dance, but from that which lies beneath it, and to stay anchored in that unnamable awareness, allowing myself to sink ever more deeply into its awesome grace.