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| Delphi |
From one of my favorite movies:
“You’re looking for obstacles rather than looking for
magic.”
—“Irv,” My Life in Ruins
From one of my favorite movies:
From one of my favorite movies:
Every happy life contains some unhappy moments, hours, even
days. Like everyone, I’ve experienced my share of times when happiness seems
just out of reach—I can see it, but I can’t catch it! I’ve also had to cope
with periods of depression, what I’ve called the dark side. It’s during these
unhappy moments that we most need support, encouragement and comfort, and also
when we’re least able to ask for what we need, let alone give it to ourselves.
I’ve been paying better attention to ways to support myself to keep the dark
moments from becoming overwhelming and lingering too long—preparing support before
I need it. Perhaps these things will help you during your own dark times.
Before
The first thing to do to cope with dark times is to avoid or
minimize them in the first place—at least dark times that are essentially of
our own making. I know I can push myself into the dark side by abusing my body
and soul—by eating poorly, not sleeping enough, over-scheduling myself and
ignoring my deepest needs. When I’m doing the things I know I need, I’m much
less likely to fall into a depression. That means I need to eat healthy, move
my body, sleep, and allow myself to play and to have down time. I also do
better when I’m clear about my priorities, and make sure I take care of the
most important ones.
Even if I were perfect in the self-care mentioned above,
which I’m not, I would still face times of depression. It’s before the dark
side threatens that I list and collect items that make me feel comforted—things
like favorite foods, books and movies that make me laugh or conjure up a
happier time (recently, Columbo reruns—they remind me of my childhood).
Inspired by Gretchen Rubin’s (author of The Happiness Project) Happiness
Box filled with “little trinkets meant to trigger happy thoughts and memories,”
I have hanging on my office wall a display of the ephemera of this year’s happy
experiences—visual reminders of how much good I have in my life.
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| Happy mementos |
Before the dark side looms is also the time to think about
those I can call on for help when I’m feeling down. I still need to work on
this because I tend to hole up on my own when I’m feeling down.
During
When I’m unable to avoid the dark side, I’ve found a few
things that help me feel better. Here are some of them:
1. Wear a favorite perfume—I usually reach for the Tea Olive
perfume I bought in New Orleans a few years ago. Not only does it smell good,
it reminds me of a happy time.
2. Accomplish something, no matter how small. On days when
what I really want to do is put my head on my desk and cry, I choose a small,
relatively pleasant action—file some papers, wash and put away a load of
laundry, trim a spent orchid flower spike.
3. Give myself permission to take it easy…temporarily.
Sometimes a dark episode is brought on by simple exhaustion. A break from the
usual, busy routine should help. I try not to fall into complete lethargy for
too long, however (see previous suggestion).
4. Remember this, too, shall pass. (And if it doesn’t, it’s
time to seek help.)
5. Be kind and gentle with myself. As The Bloggess says,
“Depression lies.” When I’m down in the dumps, I suddenly see all my flaws
glaring at me. Every negative comment anyone has ever made to me comes back,
amplified. I (in)conveniently forget every kind comment and any and all
strengths I have. I know I should firmly put aside the negative voices in my
head.
6. Limit access to bad news—I stay off the internet (unless
I’m visiting a site like Cute Overload or one of my favorite blogs), don’t read
the paper or watch the news on TV. Now is the time to enjoy the comforting items I stockpiled earlier.
After
When I’m feeling better, I think about what led up to the
darkness. Are there any adjustments to be made? What can I learn about myself
from it? Am I consistently ignoring or denying my deep desires? Do I even know
what I want—many people, myself included, aren’t always completely sure.
Am I feeling overworked and overwhelmed? Or am I bored with
life and looking to do something worthwhile, to be challenged?
I wish I could say that I consistently do all these things,
but I’m still learning how to care for myself before, during and after a visit
to the dark side. The very nature of depression makes self-care hard, but I’m
not giving up. Coming out of the dark just makes the light so much brighter.
How do you support and care for yourself during dark times?
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| Me (and Pedro), in front of Grandma's house |
There are many fine poems in which the poet looks deeply
into a photograph and tries to touch the lives caught there. Here’s one by Tami
Haaland, who lives in Montana. [Introduction by Ted Kooser.]
Little Girl
She’s with Grandma in front
of Grandma’s house, backed
by a willow tree, gladiola and roses.
Who did she ever want
to please? But Grandma
seems half-pleased and annoyed.
No doubt Mother frowns
behind the lens, wants
to straighten this sassy face.
Maybe laughs, too.
Little girl with her mouth wide,
tongue out, yelling
at the camera. See her little
white purse full of treasure,
her white sandals?
She has things to do,
you can tell. Places to explore
beyond the frame,
and these women picking flowers
and taking pictures.
Why won’t they let her go?
Note: I'm taking a more relaxed approach to blogging this summer, so occasionally I'm going to rerun a previous post. I hope you enjoy this one, from 2010. I have made a few minor edits, including updating the photos, since it last appeared, and I've added an author's note regarding the progress (or lack thereof) I'm making on my TBR piles.
Libraries also give me a rush. All those books waiting to be opened—and they’re free. I know my 14-digit library card number by heart, and I adore searching the online catalog and putting books on hold. With one click of a mouse, I can feed my habit with books from libraries all over my county.
And buying books online? While it lacks the sensuality of the bookstore, online book buying gives me an additional fix: endless titles and both familiar and obscure-but-fascinating authors to explore. I can spend hours wandering through Amazon or Abe Books or Half.com. Not only is there the thrill of finding a bargain book (May Sarton’s Journal of a Solitude for a penny!), but the additional pleasure of anticipating the arrival of that book in the mail.
My addiction is such that I read at every opportunity, and in every type of surrounding. Along with more traditional places, such as doctors’ waiting rooms or the bathtub, I read while in the gas station car wash (and once while pumping gas), while in line at the drive through at the pharmacy or bank, while blow drying my hair, while nursing my baby in the middle of the night, and between halves at that baby’s football games (he’s 19 now). I once tried to read in a Jacuzzi spa, but found the jets splashed too much water on the book.
I confess that I feed my husband’s addiction as well. Aside from the pleasure I know reading gives him, if he doesn’t have something good to read, then I won’t be able to…he’ll need conversation or meals or (ahem) “marital attention” when I want to read. (Does that make me a pusher?)
I like to blame my mother for my dilemma. I inherited my love of reading from her, but she may have just the slightest addiction problem herself: she once got a traffic ticket for reading while sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic. She had opened a book on the seat beside her, snatching sentences while the traffic remained at a standstill. The motorcycle cop who ticketed her did not approve.
Books started out as my innocent companions—my solace in a rather lonely childhood, their characters my friends and comforters. Coming home to an empty house after school wasn’t quite so bad when I could roam the fields and woods of Prince Edward Island with Anne of Green Gables or feel the wind on my face as Alec raced with the Black Stallion. Books taught me about everything from puberty to how to bake brownies. My desire to travel was first awakened by reading James Herriot’s Yorkshire.
Books have enriched my life more than I can say—but somehow, I crossed the line from relaxing hobby to addiction. For years, I kidded myself, denying I had a problem—until we recently remodeled our bedroom closet and my addiction became something I could no longer ignore. On a free-standing bookcase in our closet, I had stored my stash of purchased-but-not-yet-read books. When I moved them to make room for the new closet system, I found I had 52 unread books. That’s a whole year’s worth if I manage to read one a week!
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| One of the piles |
Author's note: Since I wrote this post, things have only gotten worse. I currently have even MORE than 52 unread books on my shelves, despite participating in two Mount TBR Challenges. In 2014 I have limited my book acquisition to books received from Paperback Swap, purchased from my library's book shop or with my credit at a local used book shop. I'm still acquiring books, but at a slower rate. I don't think I'll ever come to the end of my TBR piles, but my goal is just to get them down to a manageable size so that I won't feel like a hoarder every time I enter my closet.
Some unusual things have been happening in my own back yard.
This plant/tree is blooming:
Anyone know what it is? A neighbor gave us a piece trimmed
from her tree (it looked like a three-pronged stick), and it’s growing leaves
and blossoming. It smells nice, too.
The ginger is blooming:
So is the geranium:
And the angel wing begonia:
One of our sago palms has produced this:
A mature male Sago produces this cone every second or
third year. (Though technically, this is in my front yard.)
On the downside, our dog, who is 15 years old, cut her leg
badly enough to need stitches and a trip to the emergency vet. Then two days
later, she came in from the backyard with a punctured foot—the vet says either a
bite or an entrapment injury. She’s now on lockdown—can’t go out in the backyard
without supervision—which doesn’t please her, but oh, well. She’s pretty much
back to normal, and I’m taking her to have the stitches removed this morning. (I have pictures of those, too, but I’ll spare you!)
Even though I love to go exploring, it’s clear that there are plenty of everyday adventures to be had right in my own backyard.
What’s been happening in your backyard lately?
But while she was here, she had a profound influence on so
many.
I heard Maya Angelou speak in Tampa a few years ago, and
while I don’t remember her exact words, I remember the feeling I left with—the
feeling that life was a precious gift, and we should live it to the fullest.
She was funny and wise and just…amazing.
I’ve only read the first volume of her autobiography (I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings), but I have a couple more on my TBR shelf
(the title of this post is a variation on the last line of her final
autobiographical volume, A Song Flung Up to Heaven) and a volume of her
poetry.
In remembrance of Maya Angelou, who died May 28 at age 86, here are a few of my
favorite quotes:
“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said,
people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them
feel.”
“I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a
catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back.”
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story
inside you.”
“All great artists draw from the same resource: the human
heart, which tells us that we are more alike than we are unalike.”
“Easy reading is damn hard writing.”
“Some critics will write, ‘Maya Angelou is a natural
writer’—which is right after being a natural heart surgeon.”
Click below to see Dr. Angelou recite her poem, “Still I Rise.”
I think and write a lot about the things that contribute to
a happy life in general, as well as what makes me, specifically happy. Lately,
I’ve been thinking about one particular factor: choosing happiness.
I know I have a good life. And as I become more mindful of
that life, while doing the everyday, ordinary things that make it up—driving to
the grocery store, browsing the library shelves, cooking dinner—more often I’m
choosing to feel happy. Happy instead of rushed, instead of frustrated,
resentful, worried, etc. Happy.
I’m not talking about pasting on a happy face when life is
truly hard, or denying pain and negative feelings. I’m talking about recognizing
how happy ordinary life can be. Instead of feeling neutral or hurried, instead
of zoning out and not feeling anything, I choose to feel happy.
I feel like I’m the opposite of most people because I dread
summer, and my summer plans mostly involve figuring out how to stay inside as
much as possible. If I could hibernate during summer, I would! But since I
can’t, I’m going to make the best of the new season by finding ways to make
summer fun instead of a time to be endured. I’m going to work less, have
more fun, shake up the routine, and just generally be more relaxed. Here are
some of the things I want to do this summer when Florida’s temperatures and
humidity make hibernating look appealing:
- Institute Friday movie nights—my husband and I plan to pop some popcorn and rewatch some old favorites—like My Cousin Vinny and The Princess Bride. (I’m going to slip in Mama Mia! and My Life in Ruins, but I doubt I’ll get him to watch those with me! He can watch something more manly while I’m reveling in Greek scenery and romance.)
- Spend time with friends. I have two friends coming in from out of town this summer, and I’m going to make the time to be with them, even if I have to—gasp!—let my normal work slide. I’m also going to make more time for getting together with local friends—I’ve been missing our long breakfasts/lunches/coffee dates
- Make root beer float frozen pops. Yum!
- Reinstate “Summer Reruns” on the blog—once a month I’ll rerun a favorite post from a previous year.
- Read at whim, regardless of bookish challenges. I want to read Mary Stewart’s The Crystal Cave, but that’s about as far as I’ve gotten in making summer reading plans. Fear not, though—I’ll be reading plenty, hopefully while relaxing on a chaise lounge and sipping some cold iced tea. (Note to self: make iced tea.)
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| If you ask nicely, I might move. |
You’ll notice that not one of those things would fit on a
traditional to-do list. I’ve got more than enough of those floating around—in
fact, I should add “discard projects and goals” to the above list so I can
indulge in my summer plans with no guilt feelings. Too often when I find life a
little uncomfortable, I mope around feeling sorry for myself or helpless to
make things better instead of looking for ways to add simple pleasures to my
days. You can see from the above list that it doesn’t take much to make me feel
happier—and you’re probably the same. So this summer I’m going to actively
pursue my favorite simple pleasures—and maybe a few everyday adventures—instead
of letting the hot, humid weather get me down.
What are some of your summer plans?
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| Pretty but HOT |
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| Photo courtesy Peter Rossing |
Let’s celebrate the first warm days of spring with a poem
for mushroom hunters, this one by Amy Fleury, who lives in Louisiana.
[Introduction by Ted Kooser.]
First Morel
Up from wood rot,
wrinkling up from duff
and homely damps,
spore-born and cauled
like a meager seer,
it pushes aside earth
to make a small place
from decay. Bashful,
it brings honeycombed
news from below
of the coming plenty
and everything rising.
American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry
Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also
supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln.
Poem copyright ©2013 by Amy Fleury from her most recent book of poems, Sympathetic
Magic, Southern Illinois University Press, 2013. Poem reprinted by permission
of Amy Fleury and the publisher. Introduction copyright 2014 by The Poetry
Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate
Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006.
The discussion starts like this:
“Could you move your elbow?”
“No, there’s no place for me to put it.”
“You’re on my side.”
“No, I’m not. I’m right on the edge of the bed. Look—you’re
taking up more than your half!”
“No, I’m not—I’m hanging off my side…”
And on it goes as my husband and I bicker about space while
we read in bed before we go to sleep. He’s bigger than I am, but does that mean
I should give up my comfort so he can have more room? And in turn, why do I
insist on a strict 50-50 division, even though we are not equal in size?
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| Don't forget room for me... |
It occurs to me this little argument is a sort of parallel
for marriage, or any close relationship for that matter: Each person struggling
for territory of his or her own while trying to stay together in a finite
space.
Is there a solution? Yes, and it’s simple:
Buy a bigger bed.
Or, create a relationship that gives both parties more
room. Look for the win-win.
Too often we get caught up in our own points of view, in
believing we’re right and our partner is wrong, when really, we’re both right.
Working this out takes awareness and flexibility. We need to be aware of our
true needs, our partner’s needs and what the situation calls for. One person
shouldn’t have to make all the sacrifices, and both should feel free to make
their needs known. We shouldn’t always cling to our “rights” OR always be the
one who bends and accommodates. We lose flexibility when we establish arbitrary
rules. This means we must also feel that we’re worthy of our space, needs and
wants and that they matter as much as our partner’s. As much as, not more than.
Of course, balance in relationships is a constantly moving target. That’s one
of the great things about a relationship—being aware of the other person’s
needs and supporting him, and having your own needs supported in turn. Learning
how to perform this balancing act is a challenge, but one worth mastering if we
want to live happily with another. After 26 years of marriage, I’m still
working on it.
How do you create win-win situations in your life?
“Being present means honoring what is real in
our lives. When we only show others the appearance of perfect, we miss the
opportunity to meet them in the place where we are deeply seen.”
Mary Florence Elinor Rainbow (!) was born Sept. 17, 1916 in
the town of Sunderland, England. She attended Durham University and received a
First Class Honours B.A. in English. In 1941, she accepted a post at Durham
where she lectured on English Language and Literature. It was here she later
met the man who would become her husband, Frederick Henry Stewart (later Sir
Frederick). They married in 1945, and eventually moved to Edinburgh, Scotland
in 1956, where he became the chairman of the geology department at Edinburgh
University.
According to her obituary in The Guardian, Mary
Stewart began writing novels “in the mid-1950s [because of] an ectopic
pregnancy and consequent operation which meant she could not have children.”
Her first book, Madam, Will You Talk?, was published in 1954. She was
most popular in the late 60s, 70s and 80s, and one of her books, The Moon-Spinners, was made into a Disney movie (the movie is quite different
from the book).
In addition to her novels, she also wrote several children’s
books and one book of poetry. My
favorites have always been her “superior romantic thrillers,” especially This Rough Magic, My Brother Michael, and The Moon-Spinners, but
she is also well-known for her Merlin/Arthur books, The Crystal Cave, The Hollow Hills and The Last Enchantment. I’ve never read any of these,
because I’ve never been much interested in the King Arthur legend, but I think
I’ll pick up at least The Crystal Cave to see what these are like. (She
later wrote two more books in the series, The Wicked Day and The Prince and the Pilgrim.)
I love her books for the writing itself, but also because of
her heroines. They’re ordinary young women, often traveling alone in places I’d
love to visit, who prove themselves when they’re thrown into adventure. They
leave their comfort zones, and through their courage and fortitude solve the
mystery and win the heart of the hero. The stories are just plain fun.
One of the biggest thrills of my life was visiting Delphi in
Greece, with my copy of My Brother Michael as company. I even saw the
statue of the Charioteer mentioned in the book in the museum there. Here he is:
If you’re a Mary Stewart fan, I’m sure you don’t need any urging to read or re-read one of her books. If you’ve never read her, I hope you’ll give her a try. To learn more about Mary Stewart and her books, check out marystewartnovels.com.
For years, Iceland has been high on the list of countries
I’d like to visit. I want to soak in the Blue Lagoon meet an Icelandic horse, and I’d love to explore a
place that is consistently ranked as one of the happiest countries in the
world. Despite a devastating financial crash in 2008, erupting volcanoes, and
dark winters, Iceland currently ranks 9th in the World Happiness
Report (the U.S. ranks 17th). There are certainly many factors
involved, but one has got to be an emphasis on the factors that strengthen
mental health.
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| The Blue Lagoon (photo courtesy briongloid) |
More than 10 years ago, Reykjavik psychologist Dora Gudrun
Gudmundsdottir knew that Iceland was consistently ranked as one of the world’s
happiest nations, but she could find no studies on happiness in her country.
She was curious about what factors predicted happiness. She found that the best
predictor for happiness was not money, as many people believed, but social
relationships (living with and/or spending time with a partner, friends or
family). A second important predictor was health, especially mental health.
This prompted her and her colleagues at the Public Health Institute to launch a
public campaign to encourage better mental health and greater happiness among
Iceland’s citizens. After studying research literature for common strategies
and characteristics of people generally considered happy and successful, the
result was the “Ten Commandments of Mental Health,” phrases that remind people
what they can do every day to strengthen their mental health, and thus increase their happiness. The Public Health Institute of Iceland sponsored
lectures and a media campaign, and sent a refrigerator magnet displaying “The
Ten Commandments of Mental Health” to every household in the country. (Magnets
were available in English for foreigners who couldn’t read Icelandic). Curious
about the ten? Here they are:
- Think positively; it’s easier
- Cherish the ones you love
- Continue learning as long as you live
- Learn from your mistakes
- Exercise daily; it enhances your well-being
- Do not complicate your life unnecessarily
- Try to understand and encourage those around you
- Do not give up; success in life is a marathon
- Discover and nurture your talents
- Set goals for yourself and pursue your dreams
So much that contributes to happiness is within our own
power—we just need the occasional reminder. (And if I ever get to Iceland, I’d
love to snag one of those magnets!)
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| Icelandic horse (photo courtesy Ida Lindell) |
My grandmother Moser made wonderful cherry pies from fruit
from a tree just across the road from her house, and I have loved fruit trees
ever since. A cherry tree is all about giving. Here’s a poem by Nathaniel
Perry, who lives in Virginia, giving us an orchard made of words. [Introduction
by Ted Kooser.]
Remaking a Neglected Orchard
It was a good idea, cutting away
the vines and ivy, trimming back
the chest-high thicket lazy years
had let grow here. Though it wasn’t for lack
of love for the trees, I’d like to point out.
Years love trees in a way we can’t
imagine. They just don’t use the fruit
like us; they want instead the slant
of sun through narrow branches, the buckshot
of rain on these old cherries. And we,
now that I think on it, want those
things too, we just always and desperately
want the sugar of the fruit, the best
we’ll get from this irascible land:
sweetness we can gather for years,
new stains staining the stains on our hands.
“Slowness is an
option for everyone on the planet, not just a privilege reserved for the very
wise or very young or very rich. All of us can decide (and the phrase is a
potent one)
to take our time.”
—Christian McEwen, World Enough and Time
For the past few weeks, I’ve been experimenting with
deliberately slowing down my actions. I’ve been surprised by how many times I
catch myself rushing, as opposed to simply moving efficiently and deliberately.
When I take the dog’s medications out of the cupboard, when I get out of the
car to go inside, when I unload the dishwasher—I feel an internal push to hurry.
(Gretchen Rubin describes this feeling perfectly in Happier at Home: “I
always have the feeling that I should be working. I always feel pressed for
time, as if someone were shoving a pistol in my back and muttering ‘Move, move,
move!’”) I’m already aware that when I hurry I break things and hurt myself,
and I really don’t need to hurry every minute of every day, so what
gives?
It’s at least partly the familiar and eternal battle between
doing and being. No matter how hard I try, it seems that I can’t
shake the feeling that if I’m not doing something (or hurrying on to the next
something) then I’m not worthy. No matter how much I streamline my do-do list,
there’s always more to do than I’ll ever be able to accomplish. Hurry has
become a habit. One I’m determined to break.
Even with my new focus on not hurrying, and even though I’ve
written several blog posts about the concepts of doing less and slowing down
(see “Do Less in More Time” and “One Less Thing,” for example), I still
struggle to follow my own advice. Take last Thursday. First, while driving home
from the grocery store, I stopped too quickly at a stop sign, spilling my
coffee into the cup holder and down the center console. After I cleaned that up
and got the groceries unloaded, instead of just chilling for a few minutes, I
got caught up on the computer and was late leaving for yoga class. I barely had
time to take off my shoes, drop my keys and roll out my mat before it started.
I felt flustered, distracted and off balance for at least half the class and
the quality of my poses suffered. After lunch, while on the way to run an
errand with no timetable, I realized I had a death grip on the steering wheel
as I tried to hit every traffic light just right.
Slow down there, girl.
After that, I started reminding myself of a principle
Natural Horsemanship practitioner Pat Parelli often refers to: Go slower to
go faster. Here’s an example in action: that five seconds I saved by
hurrying to go in the house is more than eaten up by the time it takes me to
retrieve the mail from beneath the car where I just dropped it. If I’d taken my
time in the first place, I’d already be inside (in the air conditioning) rather
than crawling on the floor of the garage.
When I remember to slow down, time does seem to lengthen.
I’m able to move more smoothly from one thing to another without feeling
internal pressure goading me on. So I’ll continue to pay attention to the speed
at which I move. Keep saying no to busy work and rushing. Value the time and
space between activities as much as the activities themselves. Seek out
activities with a slower pace. And I’ll keep working on taking my time.
What makes you feel rushed? How do you slow down?
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| No rushing allowed |
—Linda Kohanov, Riding
Between the Worlds
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| Pursuing happiness: My son at age 4 with a litter of puppies. Scout is the one licking his face. |
