I love teaching stories–parables from the Bible, Zen stories, paradoxes, Aesop’s fables, koans. That’s one reason that I now use my weekly video to tell a story.

One such story is the story of “Buridan’s ass.” In it, an ass stands between two identical piles of hay, and unable to find a reason to choose one pile over the other, dies of hunger.

I know this story well, and I was struck by how absolutely perfectly it applies to Geoff Dyer’s description of his struggle to decide what book to write next, as set forth in his fascinating book, Out of Sheer Rage: Wrestling with D. H. Lawrence. Dyer writes:

Although I had made up my mind to write a book about Lawrence I had also made up my mind to write a novel, and while the decision to write the book about Lawrence was made later it had not entirely superseded that earlier decision. At first I’d had an overwhelming urge to write both books but these two desires had worn each other down to the point where I had no urge to write either. Writing them both at the same time was inconceivable and so these two equally overwhelming ambitions first wore each other down and then wiped each other out. As soon as I thought about working on the novel I fell to thinking that it would be much more enjoyable to write my study of Lawrence. As soon as I started making notes on Lawrence I realised I was probably sabotaging forever any chance of writing my novel which, more than any other book I had written, had to be written immediately, before another protracted bout of labour came between me and the idea of what I perceived as a rambling, sub-Bernhardian rant of a novel. It was now or never.  So I went from making notes on Lawrence to mkaing notes for my novel, by which I mean I went from not working on my book about Lawrence to not working on the novel because all of this to-ing and fro-ing and note-taking actually meant that I never did any work on either book.

This description struck a real chord with me. I’ve had that feeling of paralysis when I just couldn’t decide between two options. A very unhappy feeling.

Sidenote: This also reminds me of my Secret of Adulthood: Working is one of the most dangerous forms of procrastination.

Have you ever been stuck between two choices?

Blatant self-promotion alert–you’ve been warned:

To my great delight, The Happiness Project has been on the New York Times bestseller list for 99 straight weeks (including at #1). This is absolutely thrilling, and I’m so grateful.

I’m thrilled and grateful–but I have to admit, I’m also really hoping to cross the 100 week mark. There’s just something about ONE HUNDRED. And it’s just one more week!

So, if you’re planning to buy a copy of The Happiness Project for yourself or a friend (or for every member of your office or perhaps the citizens of a small town), I would really appreciate it if you’d buy it this week.

Because of the “arrival fallacy,” we often fall into the pattern of thinking, “I’ll be happy when I make partner,” or “I’ll be happy when I hand in my thesis” or “I’ll be happy when I have a new house”–but then arriving there doesn’t actually boost our happiness as much as we expected. So I know that whether or not the book hits 100 weeks probably won’t affect my happiness all that much.

I know that, and yet…I still very much hope to to see the book hit the 100 mark.

Further self-promotion: If you’ve already read The Happiness Project, but you haven’t yet read Happier at Home, I hope you’ll consider reading it. I love all my books equally, but my sister the sage says that Happier at Home is my best book.

Want more information?

The Happiness Project: Read a sample chapter; watch the 1-minute video; request the book-group discussion guide.

Happier at Home: Read a a sample chapter; watch the 1-minute video; request the book-group discussion guide.

Okay, end of self-promotion.

Happiness interview: Pamela Druckerman.

I first heard about journalist and author Pamela Druckerman when her book Bringing Up Bébé: One American Mother Discovers the Wisdom of French Parenting came out–it really struck a chord with many parents.

Now she has a new book, Bébé Day By Day: 100 Keys to French Parenting, which hits the shelves next week. I find lists irresistible–and lists of 100, even more irresistible.

I was very interested to hear what she had to say about happiness.

Gretchen: What’s a simple activity that consistently makes you happier?

Pamela: Reading a good book. Whenever I do this, I’m amazed that I don’t do it more often.

Also, knowing – and naming – the little things that make me happy, makes me very happy. When I think of something I like, I try to jot it down somewhere. Then inevitably, I lose track of it. The other day I came across a slip of paper on which I’d written simply, “the word ‘shimmy.’” A list I wrote last year included “stretching,” “tea with soy milk,” and “dresses that come with free belts.”

What’s something you know now about happiness that you didn’t know when you were 18 years old?

I know how to be happy around other people. I can share a feeling – a moment – and trust that others are feeling it too. I have more faith that I’m not so different from everyone else.

Is there anything you find yourself doing repeatedly that gets in the way of your happiness?

Internetting. I also watch quite a lot of American TV, using the excuse that I’m keeping up with American culture (I live in Paris). I probably am keeping up with the American zeitgeist. But at the end of back-to-back episodes of Modern Family, I don’t feel energized. I feel exhausted.

Is there a happiness mantra or motto that you’ve found very helpful? (e.g., I remind myself to “Be Gretchen.”)

“Done is better than perfect.” I had that over my desk for a long time. It’s a key principle for a perfectionist who’s trying to finish a book.

Is there some aspect of your home that makes you particularly happy?

I like it when the house is neat. Or rather, I’m extremely unhappy when it’s messy. I reach a breaking point – a sort of point of maximum clutter. When that happens, I usually rope everyone into a mad half-hour of cleaning up. Then I can relax, and be calm again. Of course, by then, everyone hates me.

If you’re feeling blue, how do you give yourself a happiness boost? Or, like a “comfort food,” do you have a comfort activity? (mine is reading children’s books).

I find that forcing myself to be un-busy and just hang out in an open-ended way with my kids, usually on the weekends, has an enormous payoff for everyone.  You can see, at bedtime, how much more content and less anxious they are. They seem sort of filled up with what they needed. Also, the more I trust them and let them do things on their own, the better everything flows at home.

Have you always felt about the same level of happiness, or have you been through a period when you felt exceptionally happy or unhappy – if so, why? If you were unhappy, how did you become happier?

I’ve probably gotten happier as I’ve gotten older. I’ve gotten better at choosing friends (or rather, at weeding out the narcissists). I used to think that I needed to surround myself with people who are fascinating. Nowadays I much prefer people who are funny and nice.

Every Wednesday is Tip Day, or Quiz Day, or List Day.
This Wednesday: Eleven myths of de-cluttering.

One of my Secrets of Adulthood (and a point oddly under-emphasized by positive psychologists) is: Outer order contributes to inner calm. More, really, than it should. Why does making your bed make such a difference?

But as much as most of us want to keep our home, office, car, etc. in reasonable order, it’s tough. Here’s a list of some myths of de-cluttering that make it harder to maintain order.

1. “I need to get organized.” No! Don’t get organized is your first step.

2. “I need to be hyper-organized.” I fully appreciate the pleasure of having a place for everything, and perhaps counter-intuitively, I believe it’s easier to put things away in an exact place, rather than a general place (“the third shelf of the coat closet,” not “a closet.”) However, this impulse can become destructive. If you spend a lot of time alphabetizing your spices or creating eighty categories for your home files, consider whether you need to be quite so precisely organized. I find this particularly true with toys – I’ve spent hours sorting pretend food, Polly Pockets pieces, and tea sets, only to find everything a jumble the next day.

3. “I need some more inventive storage containers.” See #1. If you get rid of everything you don’t need, you may not need any fancy containers.

4. “I need to find the perfect recipient for everything I’m getting rid of.” It’s easier to get rid of things when you’re giving them to someone who can use them, but don’t let this kind intention become a source of clutter, itself. I have a friend who has multiple piles all over her house, each lovingly destined for a particular recipient. This is generous and thoughtful, but it contributes mightily to clutter. Try to find one or two good recipients (including a place like Goodwill), or if you really want to move your ex-stuff in multiple directions, create some kind of rigid system for moving it along.

5. “I can’t get rid of anything that I might possibly use one day.” How terrible would it be if you needed a shoe box and didn’t have one? Do you need a giant backlog of ketchup packets? How many mugs does one family use?

6. “I might get that gizmo fixed.” Face it. If you’ve had something for more than six months, and it’s still not repaired, it’s clutter.

7. “I might learn how to use that gizmo.” Again, face it. If you’ve had a gizmo on the shelf for a year, and you’ve never used it to make gelato or label a sugar jar, it’s clutter.

8. “I might lose a ton of weight and then I’d fit into these clothes again.” If you lose a bunch of weight, you’ll want to wear a new pair of jeans, not a pair you bought seven years ago.

9. “I need to keep this as a memento of a happy time.” I’m a huge believer in mementos; remembering happy times gives a big happiness boost in the present. But ask:  do I need all these t-shirts to remind me of college, or just a few? Do I need to keep a desk to remind me of my grandfather, or can I use a photograph? Do I need fifty finger-painted pictures by my toddler, or is one enough to capture this time of life? Mementos work best when they’re carefully chosen – and when they don’t take up much room!

10. “I need to keep this, because the person who gave it to me might visit my house and be hurt when it’s not on display.” Is that person really likely to visit? Is that person really likely to remember the gift? Will the person really be upset by the lack of viewing of the gift?

11. “If I have any available space, I should fill it up with something.” No! One of my Secrets of Adulthood is:  Somewhere, keep an empty shelf. I know where my empty shelf is, and I treasure it. This creates a bit of an issue with my husband, who likes to plunk something down on an empty shelf; he also likes to start using the new toothpaste before every bit of toothpaste has been squeezed from the old tube. He has his flaws.

12. “I might need this.” If you haven’t needed it so far, maybe you won’t need it in the future. And you can probably get it, if you do need it. A friend with acquisitive tendencies told me, “I remind myself that I can store things at the store. Those things will be at the store when and if I need them. I don’t need to keep that stuff in my house.”

How about you? What myths of clutter do you resist–or believe?

I don’t have much time to write, because I’m leaving for L.A. in an hour–I’m going to be on The Talk on Tuesday, which will be a lot of fun. Tune in! I’ll also get to see my sister and her family, which will be a real treat.

I was very intrigued by this observation in Jennifer Senior’s piece in New York magazine, Why You Truly Never Leave High School:

Give a grown adult a series of random prompts and cues, and odds are he or she will recall a disproportionate number of memories from adolescence. This phenomenon even has a name–the “reminiscence bump”–and it’s been found over and over in large population samples, with most studies suggesting that memories from the ages of 15 to 25 are most vividly retained.

Fascinating! It reminded me of a passage from Robert Southey, which I quoted in Happier at Home:

Live as long as you may, the first twenty years are the longest half of your life. They appear so while they are passing; they seem to have been so when we look back on them; and they take up more room in our memory than all the years that succeed them.

According to the science, Southey was half-right.

What do you think? Do you remember certain years of your life with particular vividness? Would you say it’s from age 1-21 years, or 15-25 years, or some other period?