The happiness project.

I downloaded a copy of “The Happiness Project” in an attempt to use up some extra credits on audible.com before cancelling my membership. Before I moved to Pittsburgh, I went through audiobooks faster than regular books because I listened to them on my trips back and forth from DC. Now that my weekend commutes are over, I figured I probably wouldn’t be able to use up all my monthly membership credits on audible.com like I used to. So I picked up the book and loaded it on my iPod for the final trip back from DC while M was driving the moving truck with one of his friends.

I’d heard about the book, and I think I’d even picked it up in Barnes & Noble once or twice and it never made it into my library. But this book came into my life at just the right moment. In a month dedicated to the pursuit of happiness, a structured approach to joy was just what I needed. Since then, I’ve listened to the book twice and lent it to several coworkers who probably now think I’m slightly crazy. But I don’t care.

I’ve been making a list of the most meaningful moments in the book. The parts that made me rewind and listen again. The phrases that resonated into my life, some of which I’ve been repeating like mantras in situations where my happiness has been compromised (does that make me crazy?). Here they are:

Don’t wait for a crisis to remake your life. I’ve thought about this before in many different contexts. We wait until we’re at the bottom of the bottom before we ask for help or help ourselves. The time to improve yourself is when you’re in a good place. When you’re spirited and motivated and uplifted. Those are the moments to work on achieving our best selves, because we’ll be so much better prepared to deal with ourselves in a crisis.

You can only work on yourself. This little bit of truth has never been more true now that M and I cohabitate. I’ve been living alone for two years, and I’ve been establishing my own routines, my own processes, my own way of living. What I need to realize is that mine is not the only way, and the only control I have is over myself. So when M dries the dishes in a way that’s different from me, I just have to let myself be grateful that he’s helping with the household chores.

Don’t let perfect be the enemy of the good. Ah, perfectionists, listen up. How many times have I avoided doing something good because I was worried it wouldn’t be perfect? I didn’t send a letter, I didn’t finish a project, I didn’t take a risk or step outside my comfort zone because I didn’t have the time/energy/purpose to make it perfect. But the output would have been good (or even very good) and more than sufficient for what I needed to do. We can always strive for perfection, but we can’t let it get in the way of doing what is good.

Forbearance is a form of generosity. Sometimes NOT doing something is just as generous as doing something. Not yelling, not sniping, not grumping or grouching, not correcting or micromanaging. All major forms of generosity.

Revel in anticipation. I had a very particular moment in DC about six months ago when I thought back to when I was in middle school and would look forward to friends birthday parties for weeks. When you’re 12, birthday parties are super cool. Sleepovers, parents upstairs, giggly gossip about boys for the first time, make-up and games. I would look forward to those parties with unparalleled anticipation. In fact, the anticipation was so much more fun than the actual party. And just a few months ago, I was wondering if I’d ever have that feeling again. I was sad in my job, sad in DC, lonely and missing M and my family. I was glum. And it’s crazy how much things can change in just six months. Now I’m reveling in anticipation. Anticipation of our new house, Christmas with family, the engagement of my best friend. I’m loving the anticipation like I did those sixth grade birthday parties.

It is easy to be heavy; it is hard to be light. This one is pretty self explanatory. Heavy is cranky, irritated, critical, snippy. Light is mindful, thankful, grateful, easygoing. Heavy is the easier route to go, but light is happiness.

Act the way you want to feel. This is the most basic application of happiness, and it’s surprisingly effective. In fact, I invoked this strategy today when standing in line at Panera after a four hour shopping trip. The line was long, I had to pee, I was cranky, and I still had two more errands to run. And I really needed a Diet Pepsi. The clerk couldn’t get the computer to work (“All I need is a fountain soda!!”), she couldn’t get any help, and I almost just left. But I remembered my mantra and graciously told her to take her time. “It must be hard to get help when it’s so crowded.” She looked at me gratefully. And instantly, I was happy! Within five minutes, I had my soda and I was on my way. Act the way you want to feel.

So those are my happiness mantras. They’re saved in my phone so I can call them up easily at the moment of crisis. And I have to do that frequently even though I’ve read them a million times. I highly recommend the book if you’re looking for a happiness boost, and you can bet that I’ll probably listen to the book at least 10 more times!

To happiness mantras,

Lia

Thankfulness: grace

So it looks like the end of November didn’t get as much recognized thankfulness as I would have liked. I can assure you that I had a really lovely Thanksgiving with family and friends, and there was thanks abound around our table this year. We had family in from across the state, new puppies, old friends, late nights in Oakland and family members sleeping on every available surface of my parents house. It was just the kind of cozy loveliness that I’m so thankful for this season.

But I didn’t really feel like writing about it. Because in the midst of all the beautifulness, we had some really, really sad news. My uncle passed away on Thanksgiving morning after a long and tiring battle with cancer. His loss came suddenly to me, even though he had been sick for several years. His family hasn’t had it easy this year, and I know that his daughter was really hoping he would live to see the birth of his first grandchild, her son, who is due in January. So the tone of my thankfulness changed. I was thankful for family, for spending time together, for every little moment. I was thankful for the grace of God who guided my uncle up to heaven to meet his grandson before he was delivered down to earth.

And then in the beginning of December, M and I moved into our new house. We’re still getting settled in, but tonight I’m curled up on the couch watching the twinkly lights of the Christmas tree from my brand new sectional. I admit that I was a little resistant to getting a real tree for our living room. I was being grinchy and worried about needles and bugs and dirt on the new carpet. But it turns out that this tree is a big part of what makes our house feel like home this season. It’s reminding me of all the beautiful firs we had growing up, and I was so happy today as I snugly wrapped presents under the tree.

If November was a month of thankfulness, December is a month of happiness. Taking time to revel in happy moments. Smiling more often. Being more patient. Appreciating the love of others and loving more openly. In the middle of the mess of moving, the stress of the new job, the business of holiday shopping, I’m aiming to be happy. And to share happiness. And to induce happiness in others. This is the season of joy, after all.

To happiness and joy,

Lia