A few of my favorite things
There it was, an enticing invitation: How to trick your brain into feeling happier.
So, I clicked on the and discovered the secret. Should I share? There have been so many articles, so many surveys about happiness and how to find what apparently is so elusive.
Some say meditate, some make friends, some say pray and others say “move to Denmark.” There are so many hypotheses. I have my own theory.
It was evening, close to 7 p.m. The dishes were done, all traces of the evening meal put away. It was time for the children’s baths, moments in time that will forever be sweet.
When my children were little, they would have their baths in our old fashioned footed tub. Surrounded by warm water and bubbles they would laugh their way through getting clean all the while listening to their mother sing her repertoire of bathtub songs. “ Shenandoah,” “Over the Rainbow,” “How are things in Glocca Morra,” “TheWheels on the Bus” were the background music to these few minutes of happy ablution, but the one they sang along with, as best they could, was “My Favorite Things” from Mary Poppins.
You know the words… “Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens…” ending with “I simply remember my favorite things and then I don’t feel so bad…”
I don’t have a special connection to happiness, I like, everyone, have had my dark moods, my gloomy days, but I have a few ideas about what makes me happy.
First of all, well, maybe not first, but up there in importance is making new things out of the ordinary, the stuff that might be discarded.
Right now I am looking for a bag of cloves that I bought centuries ago. I swear that I saw them only recently.
I need them to make pomander balls out of tangerines that will be quickly tuning into compose. I have a pair of blue jeans that have met their last patch, but there is so much good fabric left I am sure that I can make it into something really cool. Maybe a Christmas ornament or a rustic purse for my oldest niece who appreciates such things.
Call me crazy, but storage makes me happy.
Having a place to put things is a joy. Standing in the living room, object in hand and no idea where to stash it is painful.
Our 1929 vintage house has few closets and finding or creating places to store things is a challenge.
I’ve found or created storage just about everywhere. I, with the help of a good carpenter and baskets, made that happiness out of necessity.
My children make me happy, especially when they are near, either in person or digitally… They are adults with their own lives but they will always be my babies.
I don’t care if that makes me less sophisticated than some of my acquaintances who find distance to be energizing.
I am happy to celebrate, support and commiserate with them, to hug them even if only on-line. They are my best work, my highest achievement. I am happy to take at least partial credit for them.
.And, my grandsons! Wow, now there is happiness in small packages, full of zest and ebullience and all good things. They are future perfect to use a grammatical description. Just writing this makes me smile.
And my garden. I love the work as much as the results.
There is something about working in the earth, making things grow and bloom that is elemental.
And my cottage, my fantasy in real time, that calls forth the lessons taught by my grandmother about thrift and simple work as validations for being who you are. And my work, whether it was teaching, which also had a lot of not smiling involved, or singing in church or fundraising for good causes or volunteering and reaching out to bring some peace, some solace, yes even some smiles to persons in need.
These all make me happy, sometimes a bit achy, but nevertheless, happy.
My spouse, who has endured the vagaries of my life with patience, who allows me to pick the television programs, when he isn’t watching football or golf, who has more sweaters than LLBean…he makes me smile.
Preparing a good meal, ah, now there is the quintessential “makes me happy” task. Cleaning up, not so much, in fact not much at all.
Writing this column, when the idea is right and the words flow, wow, that turns on the endorphins.
Getting ready for the Christmas season, a study in happy discomfort, if such a thing exists outside of my brain. Planning to make the season meaningful, for myself and those I care about has its moments, some defined by low back pain, others with the delight of family, good food, conversation, faith and gift giving…wouldn’t change it for the world.
Maybe less low back pain which would mean higher surfaces on which to roll out cookies and wrap presents. A small wish for a more joyful experience
Happiness isn’t something out there, like spring or a new car.
For all of us, there are those happenings that overwhelm delight, that bring the dark of anger, disappointment, frustration, sadness., yet there is always a redemption waiting if only in contrast.
Happiness is, one among many choices, when the darkness comes, but to quote the Psalms (David) “Joy comes in the morning.” To quote another, perhaps more familiar famous person, Scarlett O’Hara, “Tomorrow is another day.”
So, what, according to the Facebook invitation, is the secret to tricking your brain into happiness? A smile. It’s a beginning. Counting your blessings comes next. That can happen any time of day.
