Recipe for a Happy Life

Recipe for a Happy Life

Do you want to be happy? For the longest time, I didn’t think it was a worthy goal to aim for simple happiness, but now I believe I was wrong.

Happiness is worthy, in and of itself. Today, on the eve of a brand new year, I’m reflecting on what it means to be happy. To cease striving for some future state of peace and joy and actually cultivate it right here and now.

Happiness equals choices. It gives us the right to decide what it is we need, and offers permission to go for it. This approval does not come from any outside source. Like all worthy pursuits, it’s an inside job. Our happiness does not depend on any outside person, circumstance or situation. We grow it in our own soul, tending it like a garden, until it bears fruit and flowers.

Happiness is not a competition. It’s not defined or regulated by what other people have or don’t have. Looking to the left and right to gauge your happiness based on theirs is the surest way to lose your sense of serenity. Make a choice to unhitch your internal state from anything external. Work on it from the inside, blowing on the ashes to bring the flame to life.

Recipe for aHappy LifeStop worrying about what other people are saying, doing or choosing. Their happiness is not connected to yours. Practice moving away from a fulcrum-type of life, where your feelings and experiences are hinged on someone else’s. This faulty worldview puts you at the constant mercy of the moods and whims of others. You are the master of your fate, you are the captain of your soul (so beautifully said in Invictus by William Ernest Henley).

Happiness is about nurture. You must identify what you need, at any given time, and become responsible for getting that need met. Don’t wait for others to notice you have needs and magically meet them. This is fantasy thinking, and all that comes from this is resentment, paralysis, and unacknowledged rage.

Nurture yourself. It’s no one else’s job to do this; only yours. Figure out what makes you happy and do more of that. This practice leads to a healthy life, but every choice you make should lead you in that direction and not away from it.

Happiness requires courage. Live boldly in order to be happy and at peace. Don’t waste any more time living other people’s dreams for you. This is it – your one precious life – and every moment is either leading you closer to your authentic self, your deepest dreams, your own sense of fulfillment and joy, or you are moving away from it.

Which one will it be as we collectively peer into 2016? What is your own unique recipe for happiness?  Will you summon enough courage to make healthy choices, opt out of bloodsport competition and nurture your own soul in order to get where you want to go?

Real Surrender

Real Surrender

I know I write a lot about acceptance, surrender, letting go of what we cannot change. This is because it’s so damn challenging for me. I think I have it under control, then something else happens to knock me off my game and I have no other choice but to practice this skill once again.

I find it hard to believe when people say they don’t struggle with acceptance. I’ve heard versions of “I just let it go” with a breezy flip of the hair and a general sense of how easy this is. Without fail, every time, I think to myself, “Bullshit.”

Real surrender over circumstances and people is hard. It’s a process, where you don’t get to skip any steps. It’s not easy for a reason. The meaning is found in the struggle. We should be wrestling with what wounds us. We have all been hurt, let down, lost, bewildered.

Real SurrenderWe can’t have it all. That’s a bold-faced lie. What we do have is choices. One after another, day in and day out, then each of these accumulated decisions determines the quality of our lives. Who we spend the bulk of our time with matters. We influence each other.

Wanting a healthy life requires courage. It doesn’t just happen, in and of itself. Our intentions determine our outcomes. We can’t simply float along, at the whim of other people’s decisions, opinions and beliefs, and think that we are in charge of our own destiny. That’s an immature, guarded and small way of life.

But stepping out, as our authentic selves, carries a price tag. You will disappoint some people, many of whom will be close to you. Grieving these lost and broken relationships will be painful. The sharp, piercing sadness will fade, but I’m a few years into it and it never goes away completely.

Especially around the holidays, when opportunities to practice letting go of expectations are all around you. We cannot control what other people say or do (or what they don’t say or don’t do). We must let go of the dream of how we want a situation to be. We just don’t have that kind of power.

I’m learning to focus on the good that has resulted from the losses I’ve sustained. If I make a list of the benefits I enjoy on a daily basis from the hard decisions I’ve made with some relationships, it ends up as a long and rich accounting. Focusing on what has been left behind only paralyzes me in grief. If I want to keep moving forward (and I do), it’s necessary to celebrate what has made my current, joyful life possible, not what or who might be absent from it.

To anyone feeling lost and bereft in these days leading up to Christmas, you are not alone. Surrender. Let go. Allow yourself to accept all that you cannot control so that you can see the good things and people in your life that you feel grateful for.

Try not to fixate on what’s gone and what may never be again. Let it run through your fingers like sand. Turn to those who are there for you – who love and accept you, exactly as you are – for they will make up your future. This is what matters; not what is gone, but what you have gained by your honest choices and what will continue to bloom in the years to come.

Ground Rules

Ground Rules

I did my first literary salons in grade eleven and twelve English classes a few weeks ago. I approached it as an experiment, hoping that seventeen and eighteen-year-old students would be interested in the art of open-ended conversation on meaningful topics such as loss, hope, pain, regret and letting go.

I began by laying out three key ground rules for the salon:

  1. Only say what you are comfortable sharing
  2. What is said here remains confidential
  3. This is not a debate

I spent the most time elaborating on number 3. I said, “You are not trying to prove a point, or change someone’s mind, or be right. The salon is not about ideas. It’s about experience; we are trying to connect with each other by finding those ‘me too’ moments of identification.”

ground rulesWhat happened in both classes was astonishing. After a brief warm-up round of questions drawn from a bright blue bag, the small groups of six teens each moved on to deeper subjects. Everyone participated by sharing and listening. The very air in the classroom warmed up as we all focused on each person’s story. The braver someone got with their individual answer, the more intense the connection became from person to person in that group.

I floated around, as did the teacher, and we both shared from our lives where appropriate. I was amazed by how different the experience was from regular conversation because of the ground rules, particularly the reminder that we were all there to listen and share, not to convince anyone of anything.

I’m still mulling over the power of this experience, because an idea is germinating somewhere in my soul about how healing and important this type of authentic connection is with one another. Ground rules for the process of willingly engaging with another person’s experience, with no judgement or criticism, seems to be a key piece of this interaction puzzle. But how do I take this concept from the relative safety of a high school English class and bring it to the rest of the world?

I’m still working on that. I hope an answer begins to materialize to this worthwhile question. I know that something significant shifted and changed in me as we were talking. When a student inevitably said something I disagreed with, I took a deep breath and steered the group conversation back to the specific question at hand because the ground rules said I couldn’t debate an idea or philosophy.

Instead, I tried to connect with the person’s unique experience, and search for places to identify with him or her on a human level. This strategy increased the level of vulnerability and connection we all felt, instead of adding more angry voices into a discussion on who was right and who was wrong. Every one of us gets plenty of that already on the Internet.

This experience was gentler, softer, more real and insightful. I want endlessly more of that, and it’s up to me to grow it in my own soul and then give it away when it blooms.

At the end of the salon, students said that they saw each other in a new way as a result of the group conversations. They realized that no person is any one thing. We are more alike than we are different. We all hurt, worry, hope, dream and fear.

When we agree to hold another person’s dignity in a safe relationship space, we find freedom to be honest, open and genuine. Observing the ground rules changes us, allowing for compassion to grow, and this in turn has the power to change the whole world.

Don’t Wait

Don’t Wait

I ran a literary salon in a grade eleven English class, and one seventeen-year-old student said, “I’m just waiting for my life to start.” This struck me as a sad statement, so I asked him, “Aren’t you alive now?”

He responded with a list of the many ways his life was going to improve when he got out of school and into the real world. He would get a good job, be free to make his own choices, live wherever he wanted, and answer to no one. I tried to tell him that the problems only get bigger when you get older.

It’s dangerous to long for your life to start, because most of that is only conjecture. It’s like throwing darts while blindfolded, hoping to hit your target. How will you know when you’ve arrived at this magical place where now your life is finally what you want it to be?

Don't WaitI think it bothered me because I saw myself in this young, discontented teen. Most of the things that irritate us hit uncomfortably close to our own experience. I don’t think I convinced him to stop living in the future and start embracing the messy, beautiful imperfection of his current grade eleven experience, but that wasn’t the point. Instead, I convinced myself.

I spent many years waiting for that elusive pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I told myself, “My life will be amazing when I get married, have kids, sell a screenplay, buy a house, go on a book tour, win an Oscar…(fill in the blank).” Some of these things have happened and some have not, but waiting to be happy and fulfilled is a losing game.

It’s all here, right now, each and every day. The responsibility, the fun, the pain, the bottomless joy, the wonder, the crouching fear, the uncertainty. All of it belongs to each of us, muddling our way through this strange, beautiful and terrible experience called life. We can’t wait. We must be brave enough to live it now, today, this very hour.

Happiness and hurt exist together, side by side. We don’t get creativity without fear. We only succeed when we are willing to fail. It’s all mixed up together, in an unpredictable and sloppy brew. If we are alive, we shouldn’t wait for our life to start. It’s been going since the moment you drew your first breath.

Own it, for exactly what it is. If it sucks, improve it. If you hate it, make changes. Life is not happening someplace else, in some future location. This is it.

Don’t blame your parents or circumstances or politics. If you want something, pursue it with your whole heart. Don’t quit until you get it, but by all means, enjoy each and every step on the path that takes you there. We only have so much time to be alive. We all have lessons to learn. Everything counts.

Don’t wait. Today is the day to live your best life.

The Ashes of Peace

The Ashes of Peace

I’d love for this world to make sense. For people to take responsibility when they mess up. To own it by naming it out loud and saying, “I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better in the future.”

So many things are out of our direct control. We can’t make anyone do anything. Not one of us can stop people’s rage and fear on the Internet right now over the refugee crisis. I long for kindness and weep at the vitriol I read and see. It’s agonizing to live in such a knee-jerk world; so hostile, fearful and rejecting.

I know that real change only comes from the inside. You can’t legislate it, mandate it or manipulate your way to it. Transformation blooms in the heart, watered by pain and loss. It’s always an inside job. Looking to the Internet for solace and compassion is a dead-end game. We must go inside for these valuable commodities, growing them like a garden, and drawing those we know, trust and love near to share them.

The ashes of peaceWriting these things is calming for me. It’s isolating to be sensitive at this time and place, with the world such a cruel mess. We are all capable of wounding each other. I must take responsibility for the awful things I say and do, extending mercy to myself as much as to others.

I crave certainty, honesty and beauty. Those qualities are in short supply right now, but when they are scarce we must breathe them to life in ourselves. We can make space for love, forgiveness and generosity, even if others are calling publicly for the opposite.

It’s time to slow down. To inhale and exhale. To stare out the window and pet the cat. To indulge in a chocolate bar. To feel reassured that tomorrow the sun will rise and we will all get another chance to do a little bit better.

It won’t be dark forever. We can learn to let go of what is not ours to own. We can blow on the ashes of peace in our soul and try to ignite them back into flame. We can do only what we can do to lighten up the darkness and bring hope to those who feel hopeless.