~ A Joy Warrior's Journey
Remember when you were a kid
and you would hold your arms
straight out at your sides and then
twirl and twirl and twirl until dizziness
hurled you, laughing, onto the grass
and you would lay there on your back
looking up at the branches of the trees
whirling and whirling above you
for the longest time,
and wasn’t it beautiful!
Wasn’t it fun!
Hey, pretty petunia, old friend.
It wouldn’t be summer without you, you know.
Why, I remember when I was only three
how you lined the path to the dirt-floored cellar
where Aunt Maybelle kept her wringer washer,
your scent mixing with the fragrance of soap
as she washed clothes, and how kittens played
their games of hide and seek beneath your blooms.
That long you’ve colored my summers, three-quarters
of a century now. And still you’re with me, smiling
outside my friend’s kitchen door, her cat
curled around you, loving your purple, sharing your sun.
Here, in the freshness of the morning, one song sings.
One clear call penetrates the air, the leaves, the grasses.
One note, holding every sound, the voice of every throat
that utters waking, that utters joy, merged into one,
rolling across the waters, pushing into the brush,
sliding down the leaves of trees, rising to the sky,
wordlessly singing Thank You, singing Yes.
A friend told me that if
I want to store something
that I see in my memory bank
to blink my eyes, deliberately,
as if my eyelids were the shutter
of a camera. I do this often now
and suppose it’s also what
the earth is doing when
she closes her eyelids
at night: remembering.
Everything. In case it all
should vanish before morning.
I join her. I intend to carry as much
of it with me as my soul can hold.
Just in case we turn out to be
the very last ones
ever to be here.
The little field flowers don’t grumble
that there’s been so little rain.
They don’t care that they’re not roses.
It doesn’t occur to them to worry
that no one may ever stop to notice
and admire them. They don’t compare
their shapes or hues to their neighbor’s.
“Better” and “more” mean nothing
in their world. No one ever told
them that you have to have whole lists
of things in order to be truly happy.
So they just dance in the breeze,
and radiate their joy, and celebrate
this moment and the Yes of being
just what they are. Right here.
Right now. And isn’t that grand!
All day the little grasshopper leaped across a world of green,
marveling at the great globes of water and the sudden streams
that cascaded down the leaves and stems where he landed.
It was all quite beautiful, he thought, this world of glistening green.
But then, as he looked up the tall, smooth stem where his last leap
had brought him, he saw a bright color that he’d never seen before
and it took his breath away. It wasn’t a bird. It was no leaf, either.
It towered from the very top of the stem where he sat, wondering,
and it seemed to be singing his name. Being a bold and curious fellow,
he quickly determined that he must check it out. And so he flew
up, up, higher than he’d ever been before. And when he landed,
he thought he’d flown to heaven, so golden and glowing
was the world in which he found himself. And the walls
of this heaven were living and breathed his name.
And he was the happiest grasshopper in the world.
Summer’s kaleidoscopic days unfold,
new jewels emerging with every turn
of the lens. The iridescent winged ones,
the rainbows of petals, pearly seeds and berries,
jade and emerald grasses and leaves.
And all the while the air is filled
with fragrance and song, with buzzing
and breeze, and the nights wear
stars and fireflies. Such gifts!
And all so freely given.
All so freely given.
It almost seems quaint now, living in a house that’s crammed with actual books. But that’s me. They’re in every room but the kitchen, and sometimes you’ll find a couple of them there, too.
Every now and then, one of them that I haven’t read in a decade or so kind of yells at me from its place on the shelf: “Hey! Hey! Over here!” And I pull it out and see what it has to say.
This week the one that called to me was How We Choose to be Happy, by Rick Foster and Greg Hicks, two guys who decided to see how happy people got that way and set out on a world-wide search. They interviewed hundreds of people and then studied the results. They knew going in that people have a sort of inborn set-point; some have happier genes than others. But what they found was that regardless of their normal level of happiness, everybody who made nine specific choices raised their happiness level far above the level where they started.
I figured it might be fun to share the nine choices that lead to dramatically increased happiness with you over the next few weeks, just in case you’re kind of bored with cruising at the same old level. We can make a game out of it. First I’ll tell you how to gauge how happy you are now and you can rate yourself on a scale of 1-10, where 1 is “My life sucks” and 10 is “Loving my life totally.” We’ll call that scale your “Happiness Quotient.” Then in, oh, maybe the middle of September, we’ll have a Happiness Review so you can see how far you’ve come. Deal?
Okay. Here’s a way to look at your happiness level. You can’t measure it if you’re not clear about what it is, right? That’s what Foster and Hicks figured out, too. So they asked happy people how they defined happiness. “What we heard was that true happiness is a profound, enduring feeling of contentment, capability and centeredness—the 3 C’s.”
They say that happiness is “a rich sense of well-being that comes from knowing you can deal productively and creatively with all that life offers—both the good and the bad. It’s knowing your internal self and responding to your real needs, rather than the demands of others. And it’s a deep sense of engagement—living in the moment and enjoying life’s bounty.”
That’s a complex definition, but as clear a one as I’ve ever found. So to begin, think about those three C’s. How deep and enduring are your feelings of contentment? How capable do you feel you are in dealing with whatever life brings? How anchored are you in your own real wants and needs, instead of those of others? Then give yourself a rating 1-10. Maybe print out this page and write your number on it. Or copy it to a file and start a little Happiness Journal.
As we go along, I’ll suggest some exercises and practices you can do to expand and deepen your experience of happiness. This week’s suggestion is simply to play along. Take a measure of your current happiness level so you will know where you were when you began.
The reward for playing is that by mid-September, you’ll be well on your way to the happiest YOU that you’ve ever been. Cool, huh?
Here’s a teaser for you: Next week, we’ll look at the first choice you’ll be invited to make—the choice of intending to be happy. Look at those three C’s again and play with that idea. Ask yourself whether you’re willing to set an intention to be happier. We’ll look at the why’s and how’s, and then you can choose.
Meanwhile, I wish you a week of curious anticipation!
Warmly,
Susan
Image by Clker-Free-Vector-Images from Pixabay
Sad Emoji; Smiley Emoji
Choose to participate in beauty.
Let it enter you and find in you
a glad thanksgiving. Choose
to celebrate the moments
of goodness. Let them sing
to your soul and find there
a harmonious and eager response.
Choose truth, which writes itself
in a hand so bold that it shines
through every deception.
Then you will live in the heart
of life’s garden; glad, even when
there are thorns.
Send up the fireworks! The sun has returned!
Here’s balm for the bees, and to please
all who wander here at the forest’s edge.
The long-awaited summer has arrived.
Let the celebrations begin, the hoorahs
go forth. Greet this glory with singing.
For now, at least, the rains have ceased,
and the sun warms the green sea of foliage
gone wild and red flowers bursting with joy.