The Happiness Project

If you're in the mood to read recent studies about happiness...

On the last day of each month, I include a list of happiness-related suggested reading.

As you've probably noticed, there has recently been an explosion of books applying science to the study of happiness. Quite fascinating.

Of course, one of the points of the Happiness Project is that I will read all these books and figure out what actually works in practice, so you don't have to plow through this reading yourself -- but here are some suggestions, if you want to forge ahead. It's great stuff.

Jonathan Haidt, The Happiness Hypothesis: Why the Meaningful Life is Closer Than You Think
Daniel Nettle, Happiness: The Science Behind Your Smile
David Lykken, Happiness: The Nature and Nurture of Joy and Contentment
Gregory Berns: Satisfaction: The Science of Finding True Fulfillment
Barry Schwartz, The Paradox of Choice: Why More Is Less
Daniel Gilbert, Stumbling on Happiness
Martin Seligman, Authentic Happiness
Kahneman, Diener, Schwartz, Well-Being: The Foundations of Hedonic Psychology

Happiness, sleep, and daylight savings time.

Everywhere I’ve gone today, I’ve noticed that people have been exceptionally cheery, patient, and courteous.

When I dropped the Big Girl off at school, I noticed that many more parents than usual were already there when the door opened to let the children inside—instead of making a mad rush to get there on time.

Why? I think I know.

Daylight Savings Time.

Everyone in New York City, everyone, had an extra hour of sleep before starting their week this morning. And it shows. People are feeling better. And no wonder -- an estimated 63% of American adults fail to get eight hours of sleep a night. Eight hours sounds like a lot, doesn't it? But that's the recommended amount.

I’ve certainly realized that for myself, getting enough sleep is a critical element of happiness.

At first, I thought sleep just mattered for my comfort: not having to drag myself out of bed, not losing steam in the middle of the afternoon.

But now I see that getting enough sleep, or not, has far greater consequences.

First, if I don’t get enough sleep, I try to stay in bed a little longer in the morning. If I get up at 6:45 a.m., we all have a calm, relaxed morning; if I get up at 6:55 a.m., we all have a frantic, chaotic morning. And a bad morning sets a course for a bad day.

If I don’t get enough sleep, I’m more likely to lose my temper, to be snappish. That’s unpleasant for everyone. Plus, I feel guilty for behaving that way, which makes me all the more ill-tempered. So I behave even worse.

Another bad effect of being sleepy is that it makes me feel less like exercising. As studies have demonstrated over and over, exercise is extraordinarily important to happiness. So I don’t want to do anything that keeps me from going to the gym.

And even though you'd think that sitting in front of a laptop, typing, isn't a very ennervating way to spend your day, it takes a suprising amount of energy. When I don't get enough sleep, I find myself putting my head down on my desk like a little kid in grade school.

The problem is that it takes a lot of discipline not to stay up too late. Those last hours of the day are precious to all of us. TV addicts use TiVO to squeeze in one more show. Work-a-holics want to finish just a few more emails. Parents relish the peace and quiet after the kids are asleep. Foodies grab a late-night snack. Readers want to finish just one more chapter.

I’ve finally figured out some ways to help myself go to sleep earlier.

First, I try to get ready for bed (brush my teeth, take out my contact lenses, wash my face) before I’m actually ready to turn out the light. I realized that, paradoxically, I was often staying up too late because I was too tired to get ready for bed. Also, putting on my glasses has an effect like putting the cover on the parrot’s cage. It cues me to go to sleep.

I also try to be smart about what I’m doing before bedtime. I can't do anything that actively engages my brain.

I can’t work on email. I can’t read happiness research, which requires me to think analytically. I can’t read anything that’s too engaging. Last week it took me hours to get to sleep for two nights in a row. When I tried to “identify the problem,” I figured out the culprit: my book. I was so intensely engaged by the dozens of fascinating arguments in Judith Rich Harris's The Nurture Assumption: Why Children Turn Out the Way They Do that I couldn’t turn my brain off, even after I put the book down.

One thing that does put me in a soporific mood is to walk around the apartment, tidying up. Putting things in order is very calming; having myself organized for the next day helps clear my mind; and doing something physical makes me aware of being tired. I look forward to lying down and stretching out. If I’ve been reading or watching TV in bed for an hour before turning out the light, I don’t get the same feeling of luxurious comfort.

Sleep is important to general health, which is very important to happiness. Getting enough sleep also helps keep the immune system active and even might be, some studies suggest, a critical aspect of weight control.

I'm determined not to squander that extra hour, but instead, to keep getting to bed on time every night. Maybe I'll even be an hour ahead by the time "spring forward" comes in six months.

*
Like getting enough sleep, I’ve learned that clearing clutter gives a big happiness boost.

This month, Atlantic Monthly’s “Word Fugitives” column published people’s suggestions for a term for dedicated clutter-clearers like me, a term to stand as the opposite of “pack rat.” I thought they were hilarious: a wouldchuck, yield mouse, let-gopher, heave-homemaker.

This Sunday: a quote from Marilynne Robinson.

“When things are taking their ordinary course, it is hard to remember what matters.”
--Marilynne Robinson, Gilead

Why it's a good idea to show up.

This morning, I went to an informal monthly coffee for the parents of second-graders at the Big Girl's school. We all met at a nearby diner, right after drop-off.

A good number of people attended, and it was a nice mix of seeing friends and meeting new folks. I had a lot of fun.

Afterwards, as I walked away, it occurred to me that the coffee demonstrated the power of two psychological principles.

First, interacting with people gives a happiness bost. Studies show that not only extraverts, but--perhaps surprisingly--introverts, too, are made happier by social contact. I really felt energized by having the chance to sit and talk to people for an hour.

Second, familiarity breeds affection. The "mere exposure effect" describes the fact that repeated exposure makes people like music, faces--even nonsense syllables--better. According to the "exposure principle," the more often a person sees another person, the more intelligent and attractive that person will be ranked.

I've noticed this about myself. Even when I don't take an immediate liking to people, I always like them better, the more I see them.

This shows the importance of my resolution to "Show up." By being present, by seeing people repeatedly, I increase my liking of them and their liking of me.
*
Pollyanna Week is a fascinating experiment.
I've learned so much.
It has proved to be a terrific challenge.
I'm eager to do better.
(I type this with my orange reminder bracelet sitting beside my computer.)

Do you ever feel happy IN COMPARISON?

I've witnessed several episodes today that, by contrast, made me feel incredibly lucky.

First, I joined the Big Girl's second-grade field trip to the Empire State Building. (I'd never been there before; I think I was more excited than she was.) While walking around, I overheard a couple talking to each other.

"Well, this was another one of your brilliant ideas," said the wife contemptuously. "It must be 30 below out here."
"If you used half a brain when you get ready in the morning," he answered, "instead of dressing like a teenager going to the mall, you wouldn't be so cold."
Etc.

Several hours later, when I was standing in line to buy a salad, a woman rushed in with a baby SCREAMING in his stroller--not just sobs, but piercing shrieks. The woman looked around the store with wild eyes, pushed to the head of the line, and asked, "Did anyone find a brown pocketbook? I was here an hour ago!" The clerk shook her head, and the woman hurried out the door.
Phew.

After lunch, I settled down with my laptop in the New York Society Library, where the guy sitting next to me was diligently working his way through a Kaplan workbook for one of the graduate-school tests. MCAT? LSAT? GMAT? I couldn't tell which one he was preparing for, but I remember all too well poring over those workbooks when I was studying for the law-school test and for the bar exam.
Yuck.

I didn't take pleasure in these people's unhappy situations, but witnessing each scene did lift my spirits in an odd way. I felt so thankful that I didn't have that kind of marriage; that I wasn't dealing with a hysterical baby and a missing purse; that I wasn't studying for a standardized test. Though with the woman and the baby, the relieved happiness was mixed with a feeling of wishing to help--it was frustrating not to be able to do anything. I did look around everywhere for her purse, alas, not to be found.

I started the morning feeling very annoyed because my home Internet service is down for the second day (I'm posting this from the library). I tried to fix it, the Big Man tried to fix it, now we've been told there's a service outage in our area.

But now my day has made me feel lucky to have that problem.

That's called "downward comparison."

In one study, people who were asked five times to complete the sentence "I'm glad I'm not..." reported being significantly more satisfied with their lives than were people asked to complete the sentence "I wish I were a..."

By comparing myself to someone studying for the MCAT instead of someone with working Internet service, I've made myself a lot happier.
*
Pollyanna Week continues. Although I'm not making much headway at all, the exercise has certainly shown me how frequently and automatically I make negative comments. I even caught myself complaining about the size of the orange bracelet that I wear as a reminder not to be negative .

Wait! I've just realized that today's post itself violates Pollyanna Week. Aargh.

This Wednesday: Tips for starting a family holiday tradition.

Every Wednesday is Tip Day.
This Wednesday: Tips...for starting a family holiday tradition.

Starting a family tradition sounds like an oxymoron, right? But traditions have to start somewhere.

Studies show that traditions are quite important to family happiness. In fact, family rituals encourage children's social development and boost feelings of family cohesiveness by 17%. They help provide connection and predictability, which people--especially children--crave. Without traditions, holidays don't feel much different from ordinary life. And they're a lot of fun.

So how do you start a family holiday tradition?

1. As with all things in life, GET ENOUGH SLEEP and EXERCISE REGULARLY. Traditions take energy. They commit you to mailing out those Valentine's cards or making homemade ice cream for the Fourth of July. If you're exhausted all the time, these tasks will be a burden instead of a joy.

2. Don't fight your natural inclinations. Although participating in the annual Thanksgiving cancer walk-a-thon sounds like a great yearly tradition, if you're a family of couch potatoes, you probably won't stick with it. Maybe the whole family could watch The Sound of Music on Thanksgiving night instead.

3. Traditions are more meaningful if everyone participates. But you can't just dole out chores and expect people to help cheerfully. Think about what each person likes to do: cook a signature dish, put up decorations, pick the music, run errands, deal with the grill or fireplace.

4. It's wonderful to carry traditions through generations, but don't be too upset if you can't keep up every element. For years, I insisted that we get a ceiling-high fresh Christmas tree, because "It's not Christmas without a real tree!" When I was growing up, buying the tree was a key part of the holiday, and I couldn't let go of that. Finally, I realized that it just doesn't make sense for my family now. We always go for a long Christmas visit to Kansas City, where my mother puts up two or three amazingly gorgeous trees--one decorated with nothing but Santas Claus ornaments. We didn't get to enjoy our New York tree much, and it was a huge hassle. So now we just put up a lot of easy-to-handle decorations, and the "real tree" is part of what makes it fun to go to Kansas City.

5. If you're starting a new tradition, consider how it plays into family dynamics. You can't just announce, "The whole family is going to have Thanksgiving at our house from now on! It's no trouble at all!" and then get upset if people don't cooperate. Who hosts, who cooks (and what they cook), who cleans, who travels, and how in-laws get a turn are all loaded questions. Consequently, you may want to...

6. Consider under-celebrated holidays. Maybe you can come up with a fun tradition for Columbus Day. And Groundhog Day is ripe for a larger vision.

7. Don't load up a tradition with too many moving pieces. Our Halloween has exploded into: lots of Halloween decorations around the apartment; a carved jack-o-lantern; the decoration of a gingerbread haunted-house; costumes, of course; an official Halloween photo in a Halloween frame, for us and the grandparents; a Halloween party, complete with sandwiches cut into Halloween shapes, followed by trick-or-treating. Enough.

8.Children love it when everything stays the same, so try to keep as much consistency as possible--i.e., don't mess with the sweet potato recipe. My sister and I still enforce the elaborate Christmas-morning routine that we developed decades ago.

Pollyanna Week: it's harder than it sounds, so I'm wearing a reminder bracelet.

Well, this morning I broke Pollyanna Week (the week in which I was going to make no criticism) before 8:00 a.m.

The Big Man was going to take the Big Girl to school, so the four of us were happily sitting together until it was time for them to leave.

Then the Little Girl started pointing to her mouth, in what we thought was a cute way, until she started making gagging noises. It took me right back to the Big Girl’s period of car-sickness.

“Quick, get a towel, she’s going to throw up!” I yelled.

The Big Girl darted into the kitchen, but she still hadn’t emerged when the Little Girl began heaving half-digested milk all over herself, me, and the furniture.

“Big Man, get a towel!” He’d been sitting, mesmerized by the sight.

By the time they both rushed back from the kitchen with dish towels, the Little Girl had finished throwing up, and she and I were wallowing in a big, yucky mess.

“Team, that was not the fastest action we could’ve had,” I said in an aggrieved tone.

But why did I throw out a nasty comment? It just added to the general loss of morale without making any useful point.

By the time I returned from giving the Little Girl a bath and changing my own clothes, the others had left for school.

When the Big Man called after drop-off to get a report, I was able to be very positive: the Little Girl was perfectly cheery now, they’d done a great job of cleaning the furniture, it was very lucky that he’d been around this morning to help. But at the critical moment, I had reverted to criticism.

Last night I did a better job, largely because I was so tired that I went to bed at 9:00 p.m. Being asleep is a great way to avoid being critical.

But I faced this question: when I said to the Big Man, “I’m so exhausted that I’m going to bed now,” was that a complaint? Or just a statement of fact? I think it counts as a complaint. I should’ve found a positive way to phrase it: “Going to bed sounds so great to me that I think I’m going to turn out the light early.”

Another temptation to be critical is what might be called affiliative criticism. When a friend said, “My sister refuses to go visit my aunt in the hospital. She says she’s too busy, but she just took a two-week vacation. She could go for one day,” my impulse join in with something like, “Some people use work as an excuse to get out of doing whatever they don’t want to do.”

But just in time, I caught myself and said, “Your aunt must have really appreciated the fact that you took the time to visit.” Now that I consider that exchange, I think that my friend was probably (perhaps unconsciously) trying to steer the conversation to a validation of her own efforts rather than to a criticism of her sister’s behavior. So being positive did make the conversation generally more satisfying.

One of the problem with Pollyanna Week is just remembering to stay on my guard, to watch what I say. So this morning I put on a clunky orange bracelet. My hope is that it will be a constant reminder of my goal.

About Pollyanna week, and also spontaneous trait transference.

I’ve been noticing lately how critical people are. The restaurant was a disappointment, or the party was dreary, or the speakers were dull, or the kids were badly behaved, or the dinner companions were pompous, or the movie was stupid, or the book was overrated. Why must everyone do so much whining, carping, and complaining?

And, oh yeah, I think I might be getting a little over-critical, myself.

So I’ve declared this week Pollyanna Week. For one week, I’ve vowed, I won’t utter one word of criticism or complaint. If I can’t say something nice, I won’t say anything at all.

One reason I decided to do this is because of the tremendous efficacy of my commandment to “Act as I would feel.” I want to feel enthusiastic, warm, and accepting, and I’m not going to get there by constantly making snarky comments.

The other reason is that I realized the truth of Samuel Johnson’s observation: “To hear complaints is wearisome alike to the wretched and the happy.”

So I set off down the sidewalk this morning, deep in thought about Pollyanna week, and by 9:35 a.m. I’d already broken my resolution.

During my weight-training, my instructor and I were talking about mercury levels in fish. And I criticized an article I'd read recently.

“The headline was deceptive,” I said, in a disparaging tone. “It seemed to say that eating fish had been shown to be great for your health, but then the body of the article made all sorts of exceptions -- like children and women of childbearing age. It was misleading."

Then five minutes later – aaack. I realized I’d broken my resolution.

Now, it’s true, I made what I consider to be a valid criticism of the article. And it's true that drawing distinctions and making critical judgments are crucial to sophisticated discernment.

But most of the criticism I indulge in isn’t of that sort; it’s not thoughtful critique, or constructive analysis, but instead kneejerk bad-mouthing. And so to get myself out of fault-finding mode, I’m just going to quit cold turkey instead of trying to make nice distinctions between types of criticism.

Last night I was reading a fascinating book, David Myers's Intuition: Its Powers and Perils. And it gave me another reason to stop being so critical.

In “spontaneous trait transference,” people spontaneously and unintentionally associate what you say about the qualities of other people with the qualities of you yourself. So if I tell Jean that Pat is arrogant or stupid, unconsciously Jean will associate that quality with me. On the other hand, if I say that Pat is brilliant or hilarious, I’ll be linked to those qualities. Ever wondered why people want to kill the messenger who brings bad news? Trait transference. So by being more generous and enthusiastic, I'll be helping my own reputation as well as other people's.

**
At 11:45, I broke my vow again. Pollyanna Week is going to be tougher than I thought.

This Saturday: a quote from John Szarkowski.

“It has been said…that photography is most at home with bad news. If there is a kernel of truth in this depressing accusation, it might related to Tolstoy’s outrageous calumny about happy families – that they are all alike, whereas each unhappy family is unique. The truth is that what we call happy families are not really alike, but art (unlike philosophy) does its work by citing the specific, rather than invoking general principles, and it does seem to be true that the specifics of bad news are easier to make use of artistically than the specifics of happiness.” --John Szarkowski

The happiness of old family friends.

This wedding in India seemed to have a particularly happy vibe. As an outsider, I’m guessing that one reason was that so many guests have been longtime family friends with the families of the wedding party.

I met many people here who’ve said that their families have been friends for three generations, or that they’re old school friends; and lots of the people my age told me that their parents were also somewhere in the crowd.

This atmosphere was particularly noteworthy given the sheer size of the wedding. One night we went to a classical Indian dance performance and dinner with 1,500 guests, and 6,000 (no, that’s not a typo) attended the breakfast/lunch that was held after the actual wedding ceremony.

The wedding took place at dawn, because dawn is an auspicious time.

Of course, there were so many guests at the wedding, and I knew so little about the other people, that I might be completely wrong about surmising that this is a key factor in what seemed a very happy mood.

My sister’s wedding will have that nice atmosphere – though with only two generations of friends from Kansas City, not three. (My parents are both from North Platte, Nebraska.)

There’s a different quality to friends you’ve known from childhood. With these friends, I feel, we can always pick up where we left off. It doesn’t matter if we haven’t talked to each other for five years. And there’s greater intimacy. We know so much about each other that we have nothing to hide. And if it’s not just us, but our whole families, who are friendly with each other, then that feeling of closeness is all the greater.