“It is one of Life’s most unfair Cruel Truths that happiness is some kind of more or less major component of virtue. It even seems to me sometimes…that happiness may be almost the ultimate virtue – in that it’s the hardest one to attain and (especially) to maintain.” --L. Rust Hills
What a great day. I had my third epiphany about the nature of happiness.
Having an original thought (or at least, original to me) is one of the most fun parts of writing—and in fact, writing is the only way that I ever manage to do much thinking.
And today I had my third major insight related to happiness.
I’ve been vexed by the problem of how to answer happiness skeptics. Very often, I encounter views like: “What does it mean to be ‘happy,’ anyway?” “I don’t even think about ‘happiness’—that term means nothing to me.” “I’m concerned with other goals, happiness isn’t one of them.” “You talk about being ‘happy,’ I talk about being ‘happy,’ who knows if we’re talking about the same thing?”
And so forth.
I’ve struggled with these lines of argument, because they either require a long struggle with definitions of “happiness” (and I got more than my fill of that sort of thing in law school) or a long philosophical argument about the nature of the good life, etc. etc.
I kept struggling to come up with some satisfactory responses. I couldn’t just dismiss this important set of objections to the very notion of a Happiness Project, and I wanted to reach these folks with my arguments. (I have to confess that I’ve become a bit of a happiness zealot.) But I didn’t want to get bogged down in a set of questions that didn’t particularly interest me.
But today I saw my way clear.
Even the people who can’t accept the idea that a person can be “happy” can accept the idea that a person can be “happier.” And that’s as far as they need to go to engage with the ideas in the Happiness Project.
And this formulation is more suited to my notion of happiness, too. “Happier” contains the promise of advancement which is so crucial to happiness, and it also suggests that happiness isn’t a final resting place, a state that we achieve and then relax and rest, but rather a never-ending process of effortful steps toward a goal.
Maybe this epiphany can also help another vexing question: what should be the subtitle of my book?
The Happiness Project: My Year of Becoming Happier
The Happiness Project: A Year of Learning to be Happier
The Happiness Project: Is There an Atkins Diet for the Soul? (I’m kidding about this one.)
Zoikes, I love having an original thought.
Today I've been thinking about Louisa May Alcott's novel, Little Women, in which the four girls talk about their "bosom enemies" -- their special faults.
And certainly one of my bosom enemies is score-keeping. My Twelve Commandments include "Spend out" and "No calculation," which are meant to remind me not to keep score, not to stint on love and generosity, not to keep track of who's done what.
"I gave the Little Girl a bath last night, so you..."
"I let you take a nap, so you..."
"I had to make the plane reservations, so you..."
It's awful. I see that. And yet it's so hard for me to resist thinking that way. One thing I did was to decide always to do certain tasks myself -- like changing a dirty diaper -- rather than to see myself keeping score. And I try to bite back the words as I find myself starting to start to bargain or trade or make claims. I keep reminding myself of what St. Therese wrote: "When one loves, one does not calculate."
I thought I was making some headway -- and I do think I have, actually. Nevertheless, yesterday, in the nicest possible way, my mother pointed out to me that I show quite a bit of this pattern. Which is remarkable and discouraging because 1) my mother almost never offers advice or criticism (nowadays; it was different when I was younger) and 2) I've never talked to my mother about my fight against this fault; she just picked up on it on her own.
Oh dear.
So I've been thinking about a particular scene from Little Women. Marmee tells Jo that she, too, suffers the bosom enemy of a quick temper (another one of my faults).
[Jo] "Yours, Mother? Why, you are never angry!" And for the moment Jo forgot remorse in surprise.[Marmee] "I've been trying to cure it for forty years, and have only succeeded in controlling it. I am angry nearly every day of my life, Jo, but I have learned not to show it, and I still hope to learn not to feel it, though it may take me another forty years to do so."
So I may be in for a long battle.
Every Wednesday is Tip Day.
This Wednesday: Tips for holiday shopping.
Yes, I know, I should have posted this list about four weeks ago. After each Christmas, I remember all the tips that I should've used to make my shopping easier. By the time the next Christmas rolls around, I've forgotten all my hard-won lessons. But not this time. I'm making a list, and checking it twice next December.
Here are my tips for holiday shopping--the ones I managed to follow did make my life a lot easier.
1. Keep a list. Starting in September, start keeping a written list of gift ideas.
2. Ask for suggestions. We all love the thrill of buying that perfect, unexpected gift. But it's such a rare pleasure; so often, surprise gifts don't work. It's okay to ask people what they'd like to get.
3. Ask questions. When people suggest gifts for themselves, make sure you know exactly what you'll be looking for. My father asked for socks. It wasn't until I was in a department store that I realized I didn't know much about his sock preferences. I knew he didn't want a pattern, but what length? what texture? thin or thick?
4. Make a call. If you're planning to make a special trip to pick up a particular item, it really pays to call first to make sure the store carries it.
5. Encourage collections. If people collect something, you can always buy the perfect gift. My mother buys me a Christmas ornament from an Alice in Wonderland series (this year: the Jabberwocky). The only trick is keeping track.
6. Carry your list. That list you've been working on for months? Don't leave it in your desk at the office.
It's Christmastime, so we're staying with my parents in Kansas City. What a treat. Kansas City might not be particularly glamorous, but I love coming back here. The Big Girl made a list of everything she wanted to do during our stay, to make sure we didn't forget some important K.C. activity.
A few years ago, my mother and father moved into an apartment building. Coming from New York, I'm accustomed, of course, to people living in apartments. But in Kansas City, it stills feels wildly exotic and interesting.
During this visit, I've been struck by the light and view from my parents' apartment. They don't look out on anything particularly remarkable, although it's nice to see trees and a garden and, funnily enough, my old school.
What's really beautiful is the light. On Christmas Eve, my mother called us into their bedroom to see the sunrise. We could really see the light changing, the sun reflecting on the clouds before it rose above the horizon, and the city changing color. At the other side of the apartment, we can watch the sun set.
We don't see anything like this from our apartment in New York, because the buildings are too close together.
My parents mentioned that seeing the sun rise and set was one of the things they like best about the apartment. And I was glad to hear that they really appreciated their view. I thought that they might have become accustomed to it, and not even registered it any more.
The things that happen all the time--the things that we count on experiencing again easily--are so easy to disregard. How many times have I said to myself, "It's a gorgeous spring day, but I want to spend the whole day in the library, with barely a minute out of doors. I don't need to try to enjoy this day, I'll enjoy some other gorgeous day, when it's more convenient."
If I lived in this apartment all the time, would I become oblivious to the light and the view? And what am I not noticing, in my own life, that would seem beautiful or interesting if I were a visitor?
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Happy birthday, Adora! I hope you had a lovely day.
Whether you're celebrating Christmas or not--I hope everyone had a wonderful, happy day. The Little Girl has just wandered by in her footie pajamas to ask me to put "Packpack on!" (she likes to march around with her teensy tiny backpack on her back). So I'm off for more Christmas cheer...
“Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each.” --Henry David Thoreau
Well, it’s not exactly selfish to be unselfish, but it’s certainly self-rewarding.
The positive psychologists will tell you this, and it’s really true: performing a good deed, doing a loving action, makes you feel great. Here’s an example.
Once my sister and I grew up, my parents started a new Christmas tradition. We adults “draw for stockings,” i.e., we put slips of paper into a hat and each draw out a different name, and we only buy presents for that one person. And we’re supposed to buy lots of stocking presents—small, relatively inexpensive gifts—nothing too big. CDs and books, not sweaters and iPods.
This simplifies Christmas shopping, because we each just have one person to focus on.
It’s a great tradition, because it makes us really pay attention to each other—my father is interested in learning more about ancient Rome, my mother has switched to the small Filofax from the big Filofax.
In any event, this year I drew my mother, and the Big Man drew me, and my sister drew my father.
My sister has had a crazy, CRAZY year. She writes for TV in Los Angeles. In the space of one day, she got engaged, got diagnosed with diabetes, and had an offer on a house accepted. With her writing partner, on the side of her TV job, she wrote a young-adult novel; now they’re working on a pilot script. She and her fiancé moved two weeks ago, and they’re getting married in May.
She’s under a huge amount of pressure at work right now. I really wished that I could do something to help. And then I thought of something I could do.
I got her on the phone. “Hey, since I can’t come to help you move, guess what I’m going to do to help you out?”
“What?”
“I’m going to do your Christmas shopping.”
She was so relieved that she didn’t even say, “Oh, no, you shouldn’t.” “Thanks, Gretch! That would be so great.”
And you know, I’ve gotten more happiness out of that good deed than I could get from any Christmas present that I’ll receive.
Now, it helped that my father suggested several things he wanted, and the Big Man—in a miraculous development—did most of the actual shopping for the presents. So it turned out that my offer wasn’t a big sacrifice on my part.
But I do know that the shopping would have weighed on my sister’s mind. And sometimes when you’re under a lot of stress, it’s the little tasks that seem the hardest.
Generally, I’m ashamed to say, I’m so self-absorbed that I don’t even think about what good deeds I might do for the people around me. I’m trying to be better at seeing possibilities—even little things. I can email some digital photos of the girls to my in-laws, who are away on a vacation (I just learned how to do this). I can really make an effort to set up my great friend who’s single. I can help a person carry her stroller up the subway stairs.
We should do good just because it’s the right thing to do—but it helps to remember how satisfying it is. Do good, feel good.
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One of my resolutions is to "explore on the internet," and I've become intrigued by the wild, lovely variety of design sites. Here's one of my new favorites: K Style.
I’ve really been back-sliding lately with the Big Man, with my temper.
The other day, after the girls were sleep, we were talking about our schedules. We had an upcoming dinner date with some friends—not old, close friends who know all our faults, but new friends with whom we still need to be polite.
“Hmmm…I’m not sure I’ll be back in time to be there,” the Big Man said. “Let me see what time my flight lands.”
“You’d *** better be home on time!” I said in the rudest way. “We’ve already rescheduled once, that is just too rude. This dinner has been on your schedule for two weeks!”
I was astounded by the violence of my own reaction and lamely tried to make a joke of it. “Umm, I don’t know where that came from,” I said in a calm voice. “Clearly I tapped into some wellspring of rage.”
“Seems like it!” the Big Man answered, unruffled.
Joking about it helped, but still, that was a bad moment.
It’s good that the Big Man isn’t terribly disturbed by my snapping, but on the other hand, I fear that his imperturbability is the result of years of harpiness on my part.
I remember when we first started dating, and I snapped at him for the first time, he said to me in a very serious way, “I don’t like being snapped at.” I recall it so vividly. We were on the subway, going back to his apartment from his office at Sullivan & Cromwell. (In fact, now that I think about it, that may have been the very day he threw away the piece of cheesecake.) It would be terrible to think that he’s just become inured to my snapping over the years.
In any event, no matter what he thinks or how he reacts, I don’t want to be the kind of person who behaves that way.
I keep making this resolution, over and over, and I keep backsliding, over and over. I comfort myself with examples of Tolstoy, Pepys, and St. Therese, all more elevated souls than I, who kept re-making the same resolutions throughout their lives.
Samuel Johnson, too, repeatedly records in his diary his vows to “avoid idleness” and “rise early.” At one point, he wrote, “I have now spent fifty-five years in resolving; having, from the earliest time almost that I can remember, been forming schemes of a better life. I have done nothing. The need of doing, therefore, is pressing, since the time of doing is short. O GOD, grant me to resolve aright, and to keep my resolutions.”
And so, once again, I resolve to speak tenderly and light-heartedly.
Every Wednesday is Tip Day.
This Wednesday…Tips for staying in control of holiday eating.
I’ve been thinking a lot about my eating habits lately—probably because the holiday season is so full of temptation.
Here are some guidelines that I’ve been trying to follow, with various degrees of fidelity.
1. Wear snug-fitting clothes.
2. Buy food in small containers. Studies show that people give themselves larger portions out of larger boxes, so I don’t buy that economy box of pretzels.
3. Make tempting food inconvenient—put cookies in a hard-to-reach spot, set the freezer to a very cold temperature so it’s hard to spoon out ice cream, eat wrapped Hershey’s kisses instead of M & Ms.
4. Order the appetizer size.
5. Use smaller plates, bowls, and cutlery. I often use the Little Girl’s little plastic Disney Princess plates.
6. Dish food up in the kitchen, and don’t bring serving platters onto the table (except vegetables).
7. Pile my plate with everything I intend to eat, and don’t get seconds once that food is gone.
8. Keep serving sizes small: get a small frozen yoghurt instead of a large; get a single hamburger instead of a double.
9. Skip the add-ons: tell the waiter that I don’t want the side of fries, don’t add croutons or bacon to my salad. I feel like Sally from "When Harry Met Sally" as I quibble about how my food should be served, but oh well.
10. After dinner, signal myself that “Eating’s over”: brush my teeth, clean up the kitchen, turn out the lights.
11. Don’t allow myself to get too hungry or too full.
12. Realize that, with some things, I can’t have just a little bit. It’s far easier for me to skip cookies, bagels, and chocolate than it is to have a sensible portion.
13. Never eat hors d’oeuvres.
I've realized that although it seems festive and carefree to indulge in lots of treats, in the end, I feel guilty and overstuffed. Which doesn't make the holiday happier.
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Today I came across the blog Positive Sharing, written by Alexander Kjerulf, a/k/a the "Chief Happiness Officer." He recently posted his book HAPPY HOUR IS 9 TO 5 on his blog--I haven't had time to take a look at the book yet, but his site has lots of great information about how to be happier at work. I can't wait to dive in and see what's there.
Gretchen Rubin is the best-selling writer whose book, The Happiness Project, is the account of the year she spent test-driving studies and theories about how to be happier. Here, she shares her insights to help you create your own happiness project.
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